The Hardest Walk
by Beer Good
Summary: Takes place after 'The Gift', as everyone tries to keep fighting. But then things start going very wrong... deaths, resurrections, memory loss, angst and alternate realities. Starts off kinda slow, but things really start happening around chapter 6 or so.
1. The Hardest Walk

**The Hardest Walk**

_NOTES:_

_1. This was the first "serious" fic I ever wrote. I'll rewrite it some as I repost it – especially the ending – but some newbie mistakes will probably still show. But all in all, I'm quite proud of it.  
2. The first few chapters stick pretty close to canon. After that everything goes very different.  
3. Ratings and such: well, if you can watch season 6, you can read this. Some cussing, some violence, some non-canon deaths.  
4. It's all the property of mighy mighty Joss Whedon etc. Any faults are entirely mine._

**Chapter 1: The Hardest Walk**  
_In which Willow goes to LA to break the news._

Yup, this was Los Angeles.

She wasn't exactly sure how she'd found it. OK, it was LA, not like you'd miss it and drive right past until you hit Honolulu and had to turn back. But she'd hardly slept for days, and she barely remembered the drive; she knew she'd turned on the radio at one point, trying to find something to break the silence, but everything was either too cheery or too sad. So it had been a long, lonely drive until she found herself downtown driving on some sort of internal GPS she hadn't known she had. Hadn't had, probably, until about a week ago. So much had changed in the last week she couldn't be completely sure.

The door was locked. _Aperi_. The door was open. She'd called before she left, only gotten the machine, and hung up after failing to find a way to say she'd be stopping by just to say hello, no biggie, no reason really, just doing the cheery hello thing. After all, she was the one who had insisted it had to be done in person... knowing she would be the one who had to do it. Who else? Giles was certainly in no condition to drive, even if he had been sober. Xander, who spent most of his time at Anya's bedside, hadn't exactly liked the idea – she knew him well enough to know what that look and that tone meant. "Yeah, right, Will. The guy can't be bothered to show up to help us fight a god, I say let him read it in the papers." She was angry with him for a second, but not more; he was in pain, he was trying to keep it together by focusing on Anya... she couldn't hold it against him. Spike? Oh, there was a thought. "Hullo Grandad, slayer's dead. Almost saved her, but I had a bit of a stumble and – hey, put that stake down!"

Still, she had to, Buffy would want him to know, and so here she was. Certainly a fancy place for a small, fly-by-night demon hunting operation thingy... she thought back to the mansion he used to haunt back in Sunnydale and couldn't suppress a sad smile; yeah, this was him, all right. Only not actually him, of course, because it was obvious no one had been here for at least a couple of days. Again, she wasn't exactly sure how she knew, it was just that the hotel was... quiet. She could tell people had lived, fought, loved, cried here recently, only not TOO recently... like it was a pool of water that no one had disturbed in a while, where the surface was still and all the mud had settled on the bottom... Willow sighed. She'd have to come up with some better metaphors if this was going to go on for much longer, she'd always had enough trouble putting words to what five senses told her, let alone a sixth. The answering machine had a bunch of messages she didn't play, and the milk in the office fridge was four days past its date. Where the hell was everybody? She sat down on the couch in the middle of the Hyperion lobby to think. Locating spell? Sure, she could try that, but really... if Angel and whoever he was working with these days had been gone this long, they probably weren't anywhere near. Say the spell told her they were in Cleveland, what was she going to do, teleport? If she could do that, she might have been able to...

...and once again, it all came rushing back. The pain, the guilt, the sorrow. They'd fought and beaten Glory, she herself had gone way beyond what she'd ever dreamed she could do, she'd brought Tara back, they'd saved Dawn and the world... only to lose Buffy. Willow felt like she'd spent the last few days on a rollercoaster, wanting to laugh and throw up at the same time... or just lie down and cry her eyes out. There were moments where she'd be furious, with Buffy  
_(You gave up, you left us alone)_  
with Dawn  
_(You for the slayer? Yeah, GREAT trade)_  
with Spike  
_(Big bad vampire, defeated by an old man...)_  
and of course with herself. She'd brought Buffy back from near-psychosis, only to watch helplessly as she plummeted to her death - yeah, you're one mighty witch, Rosenberg, making your best friend healthy enough to kill herself. Then Tara would look at her, and she'd be bubbly with joy... for a few seconds, before the guilt of being happy kicked in and was promptly followed by that crushing sixteen-ton grief.

In a way, she figured, it was a good thing Tara seemed to need so much sleep in the days after the fight; it gave her a chance to take care of all the other stuff that seemed to be her responsibility by default, without having to feel guilty about not being there for Tara too. There'd been so much she had to do, and who else was going to do it? Anya laid up with a broken leg, Giles with a broken heart, Xander taking care of Anya, Dawn hysterical whenever she was conscious, Spike out cleaning up the demon mess... so what was left for Willow? Working on the Buffybot. Looking after Dawn. Coming up with excuses when the school called. Demon-locating spells for Spike. Arranging the funeral... or well, burial was probably the correct term. Running everything, calling the shots, deciding on strategy... She teared up again. This wasn't what she signed up for, she didn't ask for this, Goddamnit, this was Buffy's job and she wasn't here anymore. Willow had done her part already, she had every right to just curl up with her beautiful, sane Tara and snuggle for days... only right didn't really apply here, did it? No, nothing about this situation was right anymore. Except...

She reached deep down inside herself and brushed against it with her will, like you touch a sore tooth. Yup, still there. Whatever it was she'd picked up from the dark magic books and from the fight against Glory, it was still just as powerful as it had felt when she used it... Before, magic had always seemed so easy, so natural, as much a part of herself as speaking. This was different. It felt... good. Badly good. Like she had this force that she just had to point and it would do whatever she wanted it to do... She'd used it to fight Glory – twice – and she had a feeling it hadn't tapped her out one bit. It felt strong, and more than a little scary. It felt like... a possibility.

_"Can I say it? I wanna say it!"_

_"Say what?"_

Uh-oh, someone's coming. Yup, it's them. Better get in character... and despite her best efforts she felt the tears start to rise again.

"There's no place like...

..Willow?"

Here we go. On your feet, Rosenberg.

"It's Buffy."

She nodded.


	2. As I Sat Sadly By Her Side

**Chapter 2: As I Sat Sadly By Her Side**_  
In which some people deal with Buffy's death better than others._

Tara awoke knowing someone was in the room with her. A smile started to spread across her face – she knew Willow had spent a lot of time watching her sleep lately. She had been so tired... and she had had to dream. To heal her shattered mind, piece her entire life back together in the right order again, relive it all from her earliest memories, through the bad years, escaping her family, meeting Willow, learning to live and trust again, and then the madness of the last days and the shock that came directly after it. So many painful memories to sort through to get to the good parts... but that made them shine so much brighter. They'd made love last night, for what had felt like the first time in months, holding onto each other like they were drowning, both of them coming hard like everything good and bad that had happened focused into one moment... it wasn't about comfort and tenderness yet, just release. She hadn't realised how weak she'd been until she felt how strong Willow was... and how much she was able to share it with her. Part of her felt stronger than ever before. And drowsy or not, she wouldn't say no to another pick-me-up. Maybe even return the favor.

Then she remembered. Willow was in LA  
_(Just for the day, baby, I promise I'll be right back)_  
and also, obviously, Willow wasn't a 51-year-old Englishman in bad need of a shave, some black coffee and a good night's rest. Since the battle, Giles had spent most of his time forming a deep meaningful friendship with Mr. Johnnie Walker, but he seemed relatively clear-headed now – still reeling from his loss, but sober. Ish.

"Giles? I-is everything allright?"

"Oh, yes, fine, fine." He immediately winced at his own automatic response; it was obvious he was far from "fine". "How are you feeling?"

"Um... I still can't use my hand... much. But otherwise... I'm sorry I haven't been much use these last few days..." She realised how stupid it sounded. This was Giles, he was a good man, he wouldn't blame her for being sick. That's the old pre-Willow Tara talking.

Giles hardly seemed to notice, though. He was staring right through her, looking older than she'd ever seen him. Buffy's death had left him completely devastated. "Look, Tara – " She smiled as another memory clicked; she'd always loved the way he pronounced her name, _Taahra_. "I don't know if this is something you want to talk about, and I hate to ask you, but I really have to know... how much you remember of what happened while you were..." he couldn't bring himself to use the word "insane".

She had to think about how to answer him. "It's difficult to explain. It was like... all my senses were lying to me, and I knew it, but couldn't find anything that was true to hold on to... I had to fight for my mind every single second, and kept losing." She shrugged. "I-I remember things, but I don't know how much of it really happened."

"But you remember what you told me? Before we went to battle? Because I need to know... if you saw something, if you _knew_ what would happen..."

Tara knew what he was getting at, but didn't really want to go there. "Giles... you have to understand that I'm not really a pre-cog. I can't 'tell' the future, it's just that sometimes I get... feelings, notions, flashes, all very abstract. My mother could tell fortunes, and sometimes I can too, but it's usually unimportant things and only a little better than, well, guessing. If I knew something... saw something... I don't remember what."

"But you called me a killer. Surely you must have meant... I was supposed to take care of her, and now..."

"Please, Giles, listen to me. I don't know what I saw then, but I know what I've seen ever since I've known you and Buffy. You have to stop torturing yourself: you did NOT kill her. You did not let her down. She made a hard choice, she got to pick how she went on. That's more than most people ever get. But the rest of us are still here, and we're all going to find some way of dealing. It's going to be hard – especially on you, Dawn and Willow – but..." She reached out and put her hands around his. "She was like a daughter to you, Giles. She loved you. You loved her. It's natural to feel guilty, to think of what you might have done; it's supposed to be hard to lose someone. But it's also what makes it special to have had them."

Giles nodded and forced a smile. He had a feeling she wasn't telling him everything, but it was good to hear it. All the same, he'd had enough of the subject for now. "I-I wouldn't be too worried about Willow, though. I don't think I've ever told anyone this, and a couple of years ago I certainly never thought I would, but Willow is possibly the strongest person I've ever met. I've known her for five years now, and she keeps surprising me... the more that is required of her, the more she rises to the challenge."

Tara broke eye contact, looking down at her hands. "I know. That's what worries me..."


	3. The Message

**Chapter 3: The Message  
**_In which information is shared. Among some. And mostly complete.  
_

They were sitting in the dark dining room of the Hyperion. It was an ex-scoobies-only deal; Gunn had shown Fred to her room and then made himself busy in the office, leaving them to talk it out.

Willow spoke quietly, evenly, not making eye contact, and the others didn't interrupt. She told them the whole story... well, most of it. She glossed over the Spikey bits; she had a feeling nothing good could come out of Angel knowing Spike had loved Buffy, and that Spike was the closest thing the hellmouth had to a guardian right now. But she told them of Glory coming after them, and hurting Tara. All of them running from Glory. Dawn being captured. Buffy collapsing, and Willow bringing her back. Fighting Glory, saving Tara, Buffy killing Glory. The portal opening...

...and then Giles carrying Buffy's body back to the house, refusing to let anyone help him, her and Xander taking Tara, Dawn and Anya to the emergency room making up a story about a mugging and trying to look grateful they got off so easy...

Cordelia was weeping silently, holding Angel's hand. Angel himself seemed practically deaf and blind to what was happening around him; once or twice his face would twitch in response to something Willow said, otherwise he might as well have been... well, dead. Wesley, though... felt awkward. As much as he had admired Buffy (once he got past his first impression of her as a typical American airhead) they'd never been close. He felt sorry for his friends, but couldn't help feeling like he didn't belong in this room right now. So when Gunn popped his head around the door and quietly gestured for him and Cordelia to join him in the lobby, Wes was almost relieved. He mumbled an apology and got Cordelia's attention; she stood up, her hand staying on Angel's shoulder for a few extra seconds (if he noticed, he didn't show it) and they left the room.

"Sorry to interrupt the sorrow, but I really think you oughta hear this before..." He nodded towards the dining room. "…before HE does."

"What is it?"

"Answering machine."

The three of them stood in the office as Gunn rewound the tape.

"Hi. It's me. Um... I don't know how to say this without sounding like Needy Ex-Girl, but... I think we could really use some help over here. That's what you do now, right? Because we're looking pretty helpless. Glory is onto us and... Oh God. We're going on the run. Heading East, I think. And we're seriously short on firepower. I know I've no right to ask this, but I've gotta look out for Dawn and right now, none of us have a clue how to fight Glory... I don't wanna beg, but I will if it'll help. Angel, I'm scared to death. I think... _(Oi! Buffy! Let's go, luv!)_ the car's here. I've gotta go. You have my cell number. I... "

A brief hesitation, and then a click. They stood in silence for a few minutes, looking as if they'd heard a ghost. Wesley was the first to speak up.

"When was this?"

"Display says Monday. I guess right about the time we left for Pylea."

Cordelia began to cry in earnest at that point. If she hadn't been abducted to a hell dimension they would have been here to take the call and... Wesley's voice was completely emotionless when he spoke.

"Erase it."

They both stared at their boss. "You sure about that, bro?"

"This is the last thing he needs to hear right now. What is done is done, she is dead, and no amount of guilt on his part is going to change that. _Erase it._" When Gunn didn't move, Wesley hit the button himself, deleting Buffy's last message to Angel.

* * *

"So how's Dawn?" It was the first thing Angel had said since they sat down. Willow had finished the story as well as she could and had been expecting him to ask something... but not that.

_God, he's never even SEEN her. But he thinks he has... Damn, those monks were good. Damn, **I** was good; that soul of his is like a Timex. _"Well, you know, she's... We've been giving her some of the pills the doctors gave Tara after Glory... just so she doesn't hurt herself. She's barely spoken a word since..." Silence. Not exactly the awkward kind, just... expectant.

"So what's going to happen once people find out that Buffy is... gone?"

There it was. For the longest time she couldn't tell him. This was the hardest bit, the one she had really feared. She sat there for a couple of minutes, steeling herself.

"They won't find out."

"Willow... someone WILL know. Sooner or later someone will start asking where Buffy is."

"She'll be _right here_. Or, you know, I mean in Sunnydale, right there. Because here is there and there is..." Whoopee, what a time to start babbling. "Angel, they're not going to leave custody of a 15-year-old to a couple of gay witches or a carpenter whose girlfriend, officially, doesn't exist. Plus, there's all the vampires in the Western hemisphere who'd probably arrange bus tours to hold raves on the slayer's grave and cap it with a come-as-you-are hellmouth opening." She looked him in the eye, taking control of yet another situation, bossing it over one more person, hating herself a bit more. "_No one_ can know. As far as anyone outside is concerned, Buffy is alive and well. Possibly even chipper."

"But how..."

"I-I'm not sure yet. Magic. Technology. Whatever it takes to get it done. I have some ideas, but it's..."  
_(painful)_  
"...hard."

Again, it took Angel a while to form words. "Will there be some sort of..."

"We had the funeral already. I'm sorry you couldn't be there, but we had to do it quickly... I mean, it's not like we could take her to an undertaker and it's summer... the heat..." She couldn't go on. She felt awful; there was nothing for him to do – hey man, your girlfriend's dead, deal with it.

"Oh." Angel looked so small, so lost. "So where..."

"We found a spot in the woods. We used to hold picnics there when we were in high school. I put a glamour on it so no one will find it who doesn't know what to look for. It was just... you know, the gang. Me, Xander and Giles carried her... sh-she barely weighed anything." And she realized there was at least one small thing she could do for him. "Come on. I'll show you. It's just a few hours away, and it's not like I'm going to be able to sleep anyway."

"Cordelia... Wesley..."

"Can follow us if they want, but I think... I think she'd want some time alone with you first."

And about an hour later they left LA, Willow piloting Ira Rosenberg's vintage Mustang (one advantage to absent parents) back through the night towards Sunnydale. Staring at the dark road as the headlights ate up the white line in the middle, willing her eyes to stay focused, occasionally glancing at Angel who only seemed to retreat further into himself the closer they got. He looked like every single one of his 250-odd years. When they got there, she had to literally prop the vampire up as he stumbled out of the car. She walked with him, finding her way by starlight  
_(homing)_  
until they could see the glade.

"Right over there. It's a stone marker – if you're looking for it, you'll see it. Do you want me to..."

"No. You go on, I'll be... I'd like to..."

"OK, you take your time. Sun's up in about five hours, Revello Drive is about a mile and a half in that direction. I'll make sure to leave the front door unlocked and the drapes closed. 'Kay?" She offered what she hoped was a comforting smile and gave him a hug he didn't return, then watched him stumble his way towards his lover's grave. God, she was _tired_. OK, one thing at a time. Drive home. Make house vampire-friendly...er. Hide evidence of Spikiness. Check on Dawn, check on Giles, make a shopping list (groceries, electronics, magic stuff) for tomorrow, cuddle up to Tara for a sleepless hour or two, then start all over again...


	4. Bodies

**Chapter 4: Bodies**_  
In which Spike hurts that which is already dead.  
_

_Chop_

_Chop_

_Chop_

_Chop_

Fucken Hallunda demons.

_Chop_

_Chop_

Why couldn't they all be like good little vampires and turn to dust?

_Chop_

As if it wasn't enough that they were a bitch to put down, it seemed you had to dismember them afterwards or they'd just get up again. Well, you live and you learn. Or at least you learn.

_Chop_

Last one. Spike put the axe down, spat on the pile of demon parts and lit a cigarette. "There. That should teach you to stay in your own sodding dimension next time." He could use a drink right now, but he had to settle for bourbon. No, no warm blood tonight either; he wasn't big on demon leftovers, and besides, there was something he'd promised.

_Just look at all these lovely blood-covered people. I could, but not a taste for Spike, not a lick. Know you wouldn't like it._

He grimaced and forced the hunger back to the same place he'd packed his other emotions. It was getting crowded in there. How the hell did he end up here? Chip in his head, fighting the good fight, protecting the innocent... well, some of'em. Bloody hell, the women had always gotten him in trouble.

_A gentleman always keeps his word, William. _

One of the first things he remembered learning. Of course he'd long since given up any illusions of ever being a gentleman – or indeed any kind of man. But soul or no soul, William The Bloody had never broken a promise yet. OK, granted, most of his promises of the last 100-odd years had been about killing people, but still; honour was honour and he wasn't about to start loosening up now. Not this time. Not this girl.

_Always knew I'd go down fightin'. Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight. _

Damn it, he'd been so _sure_. Full of himself, as always. Throwin' himself on the proverbial hand grenade for love and loyalty... what a way for a poet to go, Lancelot and Johnny Thunders rolled into one. Idiot. Had he even imagined Buffy shedding a few tears over the pile of dust that was him? Of course he had. That's how the story ends, right, the hero sacrifices himself for the maiden who thought she could never love him and only when it's too late does she realise... Only he'd survived the blast, and she hadn't. And here he was, dead man walking. Him and his big mouth...

_Every Slayer has a death wish. Even you. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. _

Yeah, real bloody smooth, Spike.

OK, so he'd fucked up royally, but it's not like he didn't _try_, now was it? After all, who'd fought side by side with them, getting thrown off a 100-foot tower no less? Spike, that's who. Who'd broken into the undertaker's to nick the finest coffin they had? Spike. Who had been going out every night cleaning up the mess that was, again, not denying it, to some small extent, his fault... but still, vampire here! OK, so he couldn't rip their heads off himself, but what's to stop him from looking up some nasties and pointing them in the right direction? Who, I give you three guesses? Who hadn't even been invited to the fucken funeral? Who was treated like a dumb faithful attack dog, just have him kill things and then shut him out and let him sleep in the doghouse without even telling him where they'd buried her for fear he'd try that spell again... William Bloody Pratt, that's who. Instead they were still fawning over that ponce in LA who didn't even return phone calls. Oh yeah, he'd heard Buffy beg him, actually stooping to _begging_ him for help, and what did Soul Boy do? A) show up and help them fight, B) call to wish good luck, or C) not a blessed thing? But still, apparently, Angel was the hero and Spike just a tool you made fun of and sent on errands. One of these days... He kicked at something. It turned out to be a demon head, and it shattered against the wall. Then he kicked at the blackish splotch it made on the wall hard enough to smash right through it... and possibly break a toe or two. Anything to stop... feeling... this... fucken... useless.

He calmed down as he heard the car pull up behind him. He didn't turn around. "Hello, Red. How was LA?"

"Spike..." She stared at the carnage.

"Hallunda demons. Seven of'em, give or take a few decimal points."

"Good... that's... good... hey, we don't want any of those running around, right?"

"I guess _we_ don't. Too late for them, though." He nodded towards two mutilated bodies lying a few feet away. Two teenage girls. "They were feastin' on'em when I turned up. Good thing, too, or I'd've had my hands full. They're nasty buggers." He opened his coat, showing a deep gash across his chest. Willow realised he had been wearing a white shirt earlier – only it was blood red now. Most of it Spike's.

"God, Spike, are you..."

He took another slug of bourbon. "Long as none of the demons that snuck through the portal have wooden claws, there's no need to worry about Spike. Just sic me on'em like always and I'll take'em out for you." He bent down – just a little too slowly for someone trying to look like he wasn't hurt – and picked up his axe. "Unless you've located some other beastie for me you best get goin', Red. Night time is for monsters, remember? You just run home and warm up your girlfriend and leave Spike to take care of this."

He started walking, and after a few seconds he heard the car pull away. OK. One more sweep, for all the good it'll do. See if we can find that bloody dragon. Then check in on the little bit, make sure she has everything she needs, make sure they treat her right.

_Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight._


	5. I See A Darkness

**Chapter 5: I See A Darkness**_  
In which things get very melodramatic, and the future changes._

The sound of a damaged circuit shorting out doesn't really carry that far. Fzzzt, that's about it. But...

_YOU BITCH!_

It was a scream that woke Tara up. At first she thought it was the dream again, the one she kept having, watching Dawn collapse at the foot of the tower howling her lungs out. But no, this was Revello Drive, the house was dark, and that wasn't Dawn's voice coming from downstairs. Whoever it was, it was familiar but... wrong. As she hurried for the stairs, still half asleep, she glanced into Dawn's room. Dawn was fast asleep, thanks to the pills, and Giles was sitting at her bedside; he had already realised what was happening and knew this was Tara's business. As he looked at her, she knew too. It was Willow, but not like she'd ever heard her before; she was shrieking in pain and anguish, and there was something else too. Dull thuds and gasps, like somebody getting beat up... Tara took the stairs at full clip, three steps at a time, not noticing the pain as her mangled right hand fumbled for the bannister.

She found Willow in the workshop she'd set up in the basement, bent over the lifeless form on the table, a high-pitched howl like nothing Tara had ever heard before emerging from her throat as she took everything out on the half-repaired buffybot. In the last few nights, she'd managed to fix much of the damage Glory and her minions had done to it, but now she was ripping out cables, tearing out its hair and pounding it with fists that were starting to bleed. As Tara moved to her side and put her arms around her, Willow pulled away... and then went limp and fell into her embrace. Tara just held her as the sobs gradually turned into words.

"God... Tara... I can't do this. I can't fix this. She left us... she was supposed to do this and now everyone expects me to... I'm not her, this is wrong..."

"Shhh, sweetie... you don't have to... I'm here, we're all here. We'll help each other be strong... like an amazon, remember?"

"But I don't wanna be strong, I'm trying to and it's killing me, Tara, it's turning me into something I don't want to... if Buffy couldn't do this, if it killed her, what would I have to do to? I loved Buffy so much and now there's just... this... THING..." She lashed out at the ruined buffybot again, but she had no strength left and the punch looked more like some creepy caress. "It's... I lost Joyce, I lost Buffy, I nearly lost you and everyone else gets to fall apart, but I can't... Tara... who am I?" It was the voice of a lost little girl, only hoarser.

"Sweetie, what..."

"I mean... when Faith was in Buffy, you could tell. Can't you tell with me? Who am I now?"

"You're Willow." She looked her in the eyes, holding her. "You're _my_ Willow."

"But I can't be. Not just. I don't feel Willowy... there's something inside of me ever since I fought Glory, something _strong_, I went toe-to-toe with a god and almost kicked her ass, and it wasn't enough to save Buffy, and I can't help Angel or Dawn or Giles or you or Spike... if it takes more than that, if I have to let everything loose, I'm afraid of what I'll become. Tara, I think I'd be... a monster. You said it yourself, I was getting way too powerful even before..."

Tara couldn't say anything; that one  
_(it frightens me how powerful you're getting)_  
hit home. She just held her lover, waiting for the shaking to subside. It didn't. Instead Willow tensed up again, grabbing on to Tara and staring at her, holding her gaze like she was afraid she would disappear if she so much as blinked. "Can't we just... I've got the keys, we can just get in the car and get out of here... no more hellmouth, no more vampires, no more demons, no more magic, no more death, I can't take this anymore..."

Tara tenderly wiped Willow's cheeks, shaking her head. "We can't, I wish we could but... Dawn, and Xander, Giles, we can't just leave them here..."

"Why NOT?" Willow was sobbing again, slipping back into hysteria territory. "Let them leave too, if they want. Why would ANYONE want to stay in this... this... we can leave, Tara, we can set up someplace else, we can send for them, we don't have to... this was Buffy's deal, she's the chosen one, and she's gone, she's gone, there's nothing good here anymore, there's just pain and blackness... "

Tara kissed her, trying to calm her, get her to stop tearing herself apart for just a moment... and it hit her, stronger than ever before, like something had taken whatever powers her mother gave her and amplified them hundredfold.

FLASH  
_gunshot_  
FLASH  
_blood_  
FLASH  
_death_  
FLASH  
_MY death_  
FLASH  
_Willow_  
FLASH  
_darkness_  
FLASH

She was back again. It took all her willpower not to pull back, she held on to Willow, kept kissing her, ignored the ghostly feeling of a bullet ripping clean through her, tried to not remember what it felt like to die... but she knew. She knew the price of staying now.

* * *

In Dawn's room, Giles heard the front door shut and the engine start. He had so hoped they would not be the first to leave. He gazed at Dawn, sleeping the deep sleep reserved for the very happy, the very young or the very medicated. He had hoped and wished for so many things in the last weeks, and gotten nowhere with it. What was it Philip had always said to him back in the day? "Wish in one hand, crap in the other, see which one fills up first." Right now he settled for just wishing he had his guitar. What was it, something by Dylan...

_The summer is gone  
The ground's turning cold  
The stores one by one they're a-foldin'  
My children will go  
As soon as they grow  
There ain't nothing here now to hold them..._

He stroked Dawn's forehead, awkwardly got to his feet and went downstairs. There was a note on the door, but he didn't want to read it right now. They were gone, that was all the info he needed. He hadn't noticed how uncomfortable the couch was until tonight; whisky makes a great pillow. He knew there was another bottle somewhere, but... no. _One slayer dies, the next one is chosen._ But he had a feeling that as far as Sunnydale went, he was it now.

He finally fell into a deep sleep a few minutes before the front door opened again.


	6. Early One Morning

**Chapter 6: Early One Morning**

_In which misunderstandings and old feuds show very bad timing in clashing._

Spike tucked her in, carefully brushing a strand of hair out of her face.  
_There ya go, niblet. Won't do to sleep with your sheets all tangled. You just get your rest now, Big Bad's here and no beasties are going to get you. You're not even going to catch a cold if I have anything to say about it. I promised._

* * *

He had to leave now. His legs wouldn't carry him, but he had to – the sky would be red in a few minutes, and while being burned to dust on her grave might be a romantic ending, it would also be a useless one. And there'd be no snowfall _ex machina _this time; he'd used up his share of miracles. 

"I'll be back tomorrow night, OK? We'll talk some more. I love you."

Angel got up, rested his hand on the gravestone for a few seconds, and then started walking in the direction Willow had pointed. He used to know these woods like the back of his hand... when did they grow so dark? He felt... all too human. As if the shock had knocked the demon out, taking with it all his strength, his senses... everything except his immortality.  
_(In 243 years, I've loved exactly one person.)_  
And there would be more. God, there would be so many more years. He'd given her up because he was told it was the only way to save her... how could he have been so stupid? Maybe he had bought her another year, another day... and then again, maybe not. Maybe he could have saved her. Maybe he could at least have held her. Maybe someone had been pulling his strings all along... it didn't do to think about it. She was dead, end of story. While he was off rescuing damsels in distress, he'd been unable to rescue the one that made him want to do it in the first place. And he would be paying for it for a long time.  
_(How's forever? Does forever work for you?)_

Angel reached the house just as the sky started to turn blue. Inside, everything was quiet except for Giles  
_(God, when did he get so old?)_  
snoring on the couch, reeking of sweat, alcohol and sadness... Angel let him sleep and headed upstairs. He found himself standing outside Buffy's room. The curtains were open and he wouldn't be able to stay in it for long, the sun was already above the horizon, the first rays landing on her pillow. It seemed like the same room they'd spent so few moments in together, a room belonging to someone who had to grow up way too fast – a stuffed pig, a few posters, a leather jacket thrown on the bed, a first-aid kit next to it, a drawer still holding a few stakes and crosses half-open... she'd gone in here, quickly grabbed a few things, and then rushed off to her last stand without looking back. He couldn't bear entering. He closed the door and went across the hall to Dawn's room.

It was almost pitch dark. Dawn in her bed. And standing over her – oh no. Not HIM.

"Get the hell away from her, Spike."

Spike whirled around, vamping out from surprise and anger as he finally saw the face he'd been cursing for days. "Oh, lookie here, about bloody time. I was wonderin' when you'd show up, Angelus. Expected you a week ago, mate."

"I swear, Spike, if you so much as touch her..."

A bitter snort of a laugh. "Well, it's too late now, innit? You couldn't save her, soul boy. You fucked up – again. Like you always do. She's dead, and it's your fault."

Angel looked at Spike as the words sank in.

Looked at the blood on his shirt.

Then he looked at Dawn.

Still.

Pale.

_Much_ too still and pale.

Then he put two and two together, came up with five and lunged at Spike, morphing into vamp face as he hit the blonde vampire square in the chest, Dawn's desk turning to so much firewood under their weight. Spike was used to fighting dirty, but he was hurt from the previous fight and caught completely by surprise; Angel had the upper hand within seconds, unleashing all his frustration, fury and sorrow on his grandchilde's face, deaf and blind to everything except the teeth and bone crunching under his fists, not noticing someone moving behind him...

"One sister wasn't enough, right Spike? You couldn't get Buffy, so you decide to take her sister instead, is that it? You always were a monster, William, but this... this ends here."

"OW! Quit it, will ya? We're on the same... I'm trying to... HEY! Put that..."

Too late. Angel grabbed one of the splinters that remained of the desk and slammed it home. Few vampires have ever looked as frustrated and hurt as Spike did when he dusted.

"Angel?"

He spun around. Dawn was staring at him, tears filling her eyes.

"What did you do? Oh my God! What have you DONE?"

* * *

_Come on baby, let's get out of this town  
I got a full tank of gas with the top rolled down  
I've got some money I saved, enough to get under way  
And baby, you can sleep while I drive_

Willow was surprised to hear herself singing – quietly, under her breath, to avoid waking Tara – and couldn't stifle a giggle when she realized just _what _she was singing. _Melissa Etheridge? Boy, I'm still studying for that lesbo cred test, aren't I? _She'd been driving since she left for LA yesterday morning and should probably be tired, probably be sad, probably still be hurting... but already, Sunnydale was starting to feel like a bad dream, one she was just waking up from. The sun would be rising over the desert in a few minutes, and pretty soon she was sure there'd be a motel by the roadside with a vacant room and a warm king-size bed where they could spend… weeks, if they wanted to. Sending a mental thankyou note to the inventor of the automatic gearbox, she grasped Tara's left hand with her right and as Tara – even in her sleep – squeezed back, Willow floored it.

_I'll buy you glasses in Texas, and a hat in New Orleans  
And in the morning you can tell me your dreams..._


	7. Memory Motel

**Chapter 7: Memory Motel**_  
In which things suddenly get alarmingly cute. At least the things people remember. Oh, and see if you can spot the song I snuck in._

Linda was bored out of her skull. Two hours into an eight-hour shift, so far _nothing_ had happened and would probably continue to do so for the next six hours. Right now all but three rooms were vacant, and she figured it was probably going to stay like that for the rest of what she hoped would be a very short career in the exciting field of motel management.

Of course, spending the entire summer in a run-down motel with only a couple of guests per week would almost be like paid vacation if it wasn't for Mr Felder, Boss From Hell. No watching TV, no listening to rock'n'roll, no bothering the guests, no "slacking off", no nothing that could be interpreted as unprofessional, immoral or... well, fun. She really couldn't understand where someone running a business where half the clientele wore unmatched wedding rings found horses that high to sit on. Upshot was that she was getting ready to sell her soul if only something remotely interesting would happen.

"Two months and 26 days until college. Just keep repeating that. Two months, 26 days... good thing I dye my hair, 'cause I'll be old and gray long before that... Oh great, now I'm even talking to myself." Linda tossed "Bridget Jones's Diary" aside and looked at her watch. "Oh goody, only five hours and fifty-seven minutes to go... fifty-six and a half... c'mon, c'mon, fiftyssssssix..."

There's no telling how long she could have kept this up if it hadn't been for the sound of the bell ringing as two people walked into the reception hut. Wow, whaddyaknow, customers. Actual, real-life customers. Actual, real-life young female non-trucking customers, even – that's a first. Maybe things were looking up.

"Hi, welcome to the Henley Motel, I'm Linda, how can I help you?"

"We kinda need a room... for a couple of days." "Yeah, 'cause we're really really tired, what with the driving and the... more driving and so on. Long drive. Head heavy. Sight dim. Yawn."

"Sure, I think we can swing that", Linda gestured at board behind her, all but three of its hooks holding a room key, and got out a registration form. "OK, let's start with... names?"

"Tara Maclay." "Willow Rosenberg."

"...Rosen... is that with an e or a u?"

"E. Um, the sign says you have rooms with king-size beds, would one of those be free?"

"Sure... hey, wait a minute." Linda looked up at her new guests, read the body language (it was in large print) and then smiled and ripped up the registration. "Tell you what we'll do. You two pick one last name, I'll tell my bible-thumpin' boss you're sisters, and he won't want to know any different... that cool with you?"

Willow was puzzled for a second, with an option on offended, but didn't have time to reply before Tara did.

"OK, put down Willow and Tara Maclay."

"But..."

Tara leaned in close. "Hey, we can do whatever we want, remember? As long as no one else wants to bother us, anything's fine with me. What do you say... you think you could be Ms Maclay for a few days?"

Willow hadn't seen that wicked, lopsided grin on her girlfriend's face for a long time, and certainly never with another person in the room... the way those blue eyes lit up, that tilt of the head... _Oooo boy... I think I'm going to melt right here and disappear into the floorboards. Or possibly explode. Did she just ask me to... she didn't, did she? I don't think so, not like this... but she might... oh holy everything, Tara, do you know how much I love you, what I'd do if I lost you...?_ She didn't dare open her mouth, so she tried to squeeze it all into one smile. Basking.

The mood was broken by an embarrassed laugh from behind the desk. "God, you two, get a room!" Linda liked these two already; she had a feeling she was about to make a couple of new friends.

Willow pouted, though that comment felt way too personal from someone she'd only met two minutes ago. "I believe we're trying to?"

"Sure. Just let me fill this in. Place of residence?"

Tara opened her mouth to answer, then frowned and looked at Willow who looked just as confused as she did.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but I gotta put _something_ here."

"No, it's OK, it's just... it's on the tip of my tongue..." Tara rubbed her temple. "Um... Sunnydale, that's it. Sunnydale, California."

"Huh. Never heard of it. Must be a pretty small place."

"I... guess so."

"Anyway, will that be cash or credit card?"

"Cash."

"Right. Aaand... here's your key, there's someone at this desk 24 hours a day so you can check out anytime you like, but if it's after 11 you'll be charged for another day... I'm on duty from nine to five, and this is a really boring job, so if you need anything at all or just wanna talk or have a cup of coffee or whatever, believe me you will _not_ be interrupting anything."

And they were back outside, walking towards room number 19, trying to not look too coupley before they got in. "Well, she was... nice, wasn't she? Almost not at all... too pushy." Willow was still a bit loopy, she supposed sleep depravation was finally catching up to her... that and the feeling of being free of something. She looked at Tara, striding across the parking lot beside her, and realised she wasn't the only one who'd had a weight lifted off her shoulders. For starters, she'd never seen Tara _stride_ before – not like this, confidently, proudly, smiling at her like a cat about to eat a canary. She wasn't sure what, but something had changed. Obviously for the better. As Willow put the key in the door and got her first look at the brown-and-green 70's style room they'd rented, Tara stepped up behind her and whispered.

"Do you have _any_ idea what I'm going to do to you...?"

"Well," Willow was trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible, "I seem to recall you saying something about the tip of your tongue..."


	8. Help!

**Chapter 8: Help!**_  
In which the remaining Sunnydale residents call in the big guns._

"'Gone'? What do you mean she's gone?"

"I mean she got back from LA in a terrible state, had some sort of breakdown, and she and Tara tore the robot apart and left town without even bothering to pack... and you DID hear what I said about Angel and Spike?"

"Yeah yeah, we'll go shopping for holy water and champagne later. Right now I'm still trying to deal with the _important_ news." Xander had barely had time to roll Anya's wheelchair across the threshold before the look on Giles' face had told him something was very wrong, but this was much worse than he could have imagined. He finally took the piece of paper Giles had been holding out to him; just a few lines in pencil.

_Xander, Dawn, Giles  
So so sorry. Have to get out of here. We'll be in touch. Get out of Sunnyhell. Love you all so much. Please don't hate us.  
Willow+Tara_

He read it quickly, nodded and handed it back to Giles. "OK. So how do we get her back?"

"Xander... I don't think she'll want to come back. Not now, at any rate. You should have heard her..."

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't care. I know I haven't been Supportive Guy lately, but..." He could barely remember a single day of his life where Willow hadn't been around, and now she'd left town without even telling him? No. No way he was going to let this stand. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "This is Willow we're talking about. The whole best friend thing aside, she's the only one of us with power right now. Without her, we're roadkill and you know it, Giles. If she needs more help, we'll give it to her, but running away isn't going to solve anything. She needs us, and we need her – at least we need to know how to get in touch with her. This is a really bad time for those two to go _Thelma And Louise_... what?"

Giles actually smiled briefly. He hadn't done that in some time. "Oh, um, nothing... just... for once you reference a movie I've seen. I watched it with Dawn and Buffy a couple of days after Joyce's funeral. Apparently, it was Joyce's favourite." He didn't remember much of the movie; he'd spent most of it taking care of the Summers girls, who insisted on watching the whole thing even though it was obviously too emotional for them. They'd used up Kleenex like it was oxygen, but by the end there had been smiles beneath the tears... Still devastated, but starting to accept and move on. He hoped he'd be able to do the same some day.

"God, Dawn..." Xander sat down, shaking his head. "How's she taking it? Where is she?"

"She and Angel had to talk. They're downstairs."

"_Alone?_ And you're absolutely sure he won't go evil and rip her throat out?"

"Oh, give it a rest already. He said he needed to talk to her, and quite honestly, we can't keep Dawn drugged up any longer. If she's ever going to get past this, she has to handle it sober. Right now I should think they have a lot in common. Meanwhile, we need to decide what we're going to do... if Willow doesn't want to be found, then there's no one here who can fix the robot. And without it -"

"What about that Warren creep? I mean, he built it, he must be able to fix it."

"Um..." Anya had been reading the morning paper, waiting for them to get around to something interesting. "Would that be Warren Meers?"

"Why?"

"Well, there's an article here about him. He was killed in an accident last night. Got hit by an unidentified car and thrown off a bridge. Apparently it took him hours to bleed to death... Oh. And he was partially eaten by a badger."

"Good Lord, that's..." Giles searched for a word. They all looked at each other, no one wanting to be the first to say it. "Er, am I the only one who..."

"...feels like he had it coming?"

"Yes, quite. I don't know why, but..."

"Oh well. That's that idea down the drain. Oh look honey, there's a Charles Bronson movie about vengeance on TV tonight."

Xander gave his fiancée an affectionate smile before getting back to business. "So, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, we need Willow. We should try a locator spell."

"Oh, a capital plan. Except the ones who could do that are the ones we cannot find."

"What about Angel's people? Wesley?"

Giles scoffed. "Wesley's half the magician _I_ am. Besides, it seems Angel had a falling-out with them. Something about a recording. He spoke to Wesley earlier and... well..." Giles indicated the smashed phone in a corner.

"OK, but this is Sunnydale, we must know _someone_ who's into magic?"

* * *

In the basement, Dawn stood at the table, listlessly trying to piece the robot together. Angel sat on the stairs and looked at her for a long time. He wasn't sure if he was here to comfort or to be comforted, to forgive or to be forgiven. 

"Dawn..."

"He was my protector, Angel. My friend. He fought side by side with her while you were –"

"The Spike I knew was one of the most evil creatures I've ever met. I should know, I taught him myself. One of the things I've regretted most over the last century is not staking Spike when I had the chance. He's killed so many, I've seen him do things to girls your age that... when I saw him I never even considered that he might, I didn't even give him a chance to explain..."

"I know all that. I _know_."

Angel slowly got up and walked over to her, standing close enough so she could reach him if she wanted to but not so close as to crowd her. God, that robot was lifelike... just plastic and silicon, but just looking at it, its face frozen in shocked confusion when Glory had kicked it off, hurt him to the bone. "Can you fix her... it?"

"No. She's broken." Dawn looked at Angel, her eyes red but dry. She could see he was close to losing it, having to carry so much... "I-it's not her, I know that." They stood in silence for a while.

"Dawn... I wasn't myself last night. I know she and I could never be together, but the thought that she died without me being there to at least try to help her..."

"Look, just... don't, OK? Everyone's been beating themselves up about Buffy, blaming themselves, wanting forgiveness. But she chose this. They call it fancy things like sacrifice and destiny, but the bottom line is she killed herself. Right now, that's number one with a bullet on my trying-to-forgive list, and you, me and everyone else is gonna have to get in line."

"Dawn... you shouldn't..."

"Why not? She told me the hardest thing in this world is to live in it and that we'd have to be brave, and I guess if we don't, then we're even bigger quitters than her. I'm done with this." She tossed a burnt-out circuit on the table without a second glance at the robot and headed upstairs. Angel stayed behind, Buffy's last words ringing in his ears.

_At least the rest of them CAN live in it. What the hell am I supposed to do?_

* * *

"You want me to do a what?" 

"Locator spell." Xander tried to be patient. "Willow's gone missing, and we need to find her. Make sure she's alright. Figure out a way to at least talk to her."

"O...kay... but why me? You all hate me."

"We don't ha... never mind." _Kind Uncle Xander face. Resist the urge to yell at him._ "For starters, you already know about this stuff... vampires, Slayers and so on. You can do magic, and believe me, that's a memory I'd repress if I could. Plus, you're mostly harmless and wouldn't try to mess with us."

"Hey, some compassion here? Like, one of my best friends was just killed in a horrible accident."

"Well, join the fucking cl... wait, you mean you actually miss him?"

"Well... no, but... you know, still."

"Thought so. Look, point is we really need your help. We need you. Are you game?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I guess so."


	9. Pictures Of You

**Chapter 9: Pictures of You**_  
In which Buffy's still dead. But you know little that actually means in the Buffyverse._

* * *

_Angel? Time to wake up._

Where was he? Dark, dank, stone slabs... a crypt. Another dead place, right, you never run out of those. Literally; as he looked around, he realised there wasn't a door. And he wasn't alone.

She was just a shadow, barely visible, lying on top of a large sarcophagus. As she seductively turned over on her side he caught a glimpse of golden hair and somehow he knew she was smiling at him.

"Buffy?" No answer. "...Darla?"

_Can't even tell us apart anymore, huh?_ She sounded like two women laughing at once; one young, one very old. And the voices weren't coming from her, they were... everywhere. _Not that it made any difference... I mean, we're both dead._

"You saved me... I'm so sorry I couldn't do the same for you."

_Oh, but you saved so many, I mean that's gotta count for something right? Handsome broody man saves damsels from monsters..._ Faces flashed before him, a long line of people he barely recognised anymore... Funny how it was always easier to remember the ones he'd killed. _All of them are alive because of you. Does that make up for not saving me? Even after they brought me back? You said you loved me, Angel, but where were you? I begged for your help, I waited, but you never..._ A slight shift, the girlish voice growing huskier, more sensual. ..._you never loved her anymore than you loved me, did you Angelus? You loved what she made of you, what she gave you... just like me._

"No. I love -"

_Who?_

"I love you, Buffy, and I would have given anything to help you..."

Laughter. _Angel, the easiest thing in this world is to die, between the three of us we've done it enough times to know that you don't need any help with that. You keep on saving those who don't matter..._

"They all matter. Every single one."

_That what you keep telling yourself?_ Buffy's voice again, mostly. _Because I gotta say, Champ, I don't see you torturing yourself like this over, oh, say... Miss Calendar, or officer Lockley, or any of the thousands of others you killed or allowed to die. It's always me, the one who made something of you, gave you a purpose... yet you couldn't save me from  
(Wolfram & Hart)  
(The Master)  
(Drusilla)  
(Glory)  
(You)  
(Me)  
And no matter what you do, no matter how many people you rescue, no matter how much you sacrifice, you'll never be able to change that. In the end, you're always alone, right here with us._ She stepped into the thin shaft of light coming from the ceiling, and he saw her face... what was left of it. Just death, bone and decay, and no matter how hard he looked he couldn't tell who she was now. Their voices were one and the same, echoing and doubling in his head. _Come on, lover... give us a kiss._

"This isn't real. It's just a dream."

_Oh, of course. Just keep telling yourself that every time you close your eyes. After all, you have an eternity to practice._

* * *

"This is nice..." Willow leaned back into Tara's arms, gazing up at the cloudless summer sky. So warm, so soft, so right. Grass on skin, sun on skin, skin on skin. They'd gotten half-way through the picnic and the first bottle of wine before they'd decided they weren't that hungry after all... not for food, anyway. She wasn't sure how much later this was; the sun didn't seem to have moved at all. 

"Sure is." Tara kissed her hair, and they sat like that for a while, two people in a vast field of green interrupted by a few small groves of trees. She thought it might be somewhere in England; she'd always wanted to go there. "Do you ever think about going back?"

"Back to where?" The question sounded simple enough, but none of them could think of an answer so they just let it lie. After all, they were in no hurry. They had all the time in the world to be together, they belonged to each other, and there was no one around to disturb them...

...except for that blonde girl standing over by the edge of the forest, watching them. Willow instinctively covered her nakedness and frowned.

"HEY! Do you mind? Some privacy here?"

But the girl just gave her a worried look, then nervously glanced around as if she wasn't so much watching them as watching _over_ them. And also, there was something...

"Wait, do I know you?"

Willow was sure she'd never met her before, yet she seemed awfully familiar. When she stood up, somehow dressed again, and walked towards her the girl just looked at her one last time and stepped back into the thick woods surrounding their little glade. Willow felt torn, like she should be running after her... then turned around to see Tara sitting on the ground, hanging her head, close to tears.

"Tara..."

"No, I-I understand. You have to be with the person you..."

"But it's not like that, Tara, I love you, but she's..." What? Willow wasn't sure of anything anymore. But the sun was setting, and she heard something... saw something. There were shadows moving under the trees, and that girl was fighting them. And she was losing.

* * *

They were training again, in the back room of the Magic Box, trading jabs and gibes like so many times before. Buffy was her usual obstinately cheery self, pummeling his padded areas with the same face a child puts on when asked to do homework she secretly loves to do. 

"You're telegraphing your punches again... Oh for Christ's sake, Buffy, pay atten-"

and she caught him square in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him completely. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, did that hurt?"

He just wheezed and glared at her.

"Awww, poor watcher. Here, let's sit you down." She helped him over to the bench, and they sat there for a while as he caught his breath again.

"Giles... remember I asked you once if you thought it would hurt? Dying?" He nodded. That was one of the many things he would never forget. "It didn't, really. Much. If that helps." Of course it didn't, and neither did the smile she offered him. "Come on, Giles. I was a Slayer, dying young is pretty much in the job description. You kept me alive for, what, five years, not counting that thing with the Master? I mean, that's _gotta_ be way above average."

"For a Slayer, yes."

"Well, there you go. You were a good watcher. Thanks to you, I was in the top 50 percent of slayerness."

"It's not enough. You deserved more."

"Well, maybe you should have thought about that a bit sooner, dontchathink?" She shot him an accusing stare  
_(You're a killer)_  
then smiled again. "I'm kidding, Giles. You know I don't blame you. Hey, you did your job, and you did it just fine. I mean, it's not like you could have done anything differently, right?"

Oh, just everything. "I guess not."

"See? C'mon, let's work out some more. Gotta keep you in shape for your next slayer. Hey, maybe you can keep her alive for even longer before you have her killed... _kidding_! Geez!"

* * *

It was the same dream she had every night. The top of the tower. The portal opening. Knowing she had to jump, and Buffy stopping her. 

"Buffy... no..."

"Dawnie, I have to."

"No! DON'T!" Dawn grabbed at her, furious. "You always do this! You tell me some bullshit about being brave and living and then you kill yourself and leave me alone... right here. This is where you go away!"

Buffy smiled sadly. "No, Dawnie. This is where I come back."


	10. We're Off To See The Wizard

**Chapter 10: We're Off To See The Wizard**_  
In which Angel, Jonathan and Anya have ideas. And ding dong, the witch is dead._

Jonathan yawned. He'd been living on Jolt Cola since last night, but without the adrenaline rush of a D&D marathon, and the news of Buffy's death hadn't helped. He made a frustrated gesture at the books, candles, herbs and maps scattered around him. "Nothing."

"What do you mean, 'nothing'?" Xander was getting ready to start hitting him soon. Nobody was in a very good mood. After the initial shock had worn off, Mr. Panic had started knocking down the door; nerves were frayed and tempers on edge.

"I mean I've tried every single locator spell in my books and hers, I've done the magical version of Yahoo, Google and Altavista with wild cards, and nothing."

"So you're doing something wrong."

"Nuh-uh. I've checked everything, I even searched for some other people just to make sure the spells were working. Roger Moore is in London, Tucker Wells is in minimum security in Fresno, and Jeri Ryan is in LA shooting _Boston Public_ which is a waste of her talent even if _Voyager_ was a disgraceful attempt to cash in on the Star Trek name. But Willow Rosenberg is nowhere."

All color drained from Xander's face. "You mean she's..."

"No. If she was dead, I would've found her grave. I'm saying she's somewhere else, somewhere different."

"Couldn't she be using some sort of cloaking spell?" Giles, of course, looking for answers.

"Maybe... but only if she has another one of these," Jonathan held up one of Willow's books. "I can't believe she just left all this stuff."

"But... I mean, there's gotta be something we can..." Xander was starting to freak out. He had been fairly sure that Willow and Tara could take care of themselves in Vegas or New York, but if they had made off to some other dimension, that meant infinite ways to get hurt, or lost, or...

"Xander... we're all worried. But wherever they are, we can't find them, and right now there's no point in focusing on what we _cannot_ do." Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, he hadn't slept well in a long time, and he desperately wanted a drink. "Meanwhile, no one is patrolling, the robot is for the scrap heap, and while Buffy may have put the fear of God into the Council, sooner or later they are going to notice that they don't have a Slayer. We need to come up with a-a plan, or..."

"I've got one." Angel had just come up from the basement, looking even grimmer than usual. "We're bringing her back."

"O... kay..." Xander's day just couldn't get any worse. First Willow going even missinger than before, and now a delusional vampire on top. "I know you've been asleep half the day, but the subject of this meeting is our inability to even _find_ her. Which is sort of a necessary first step to bringing her back."

"Not Willow. Buffy." They all stared at him, their faces showing everything from confused anger (Xander) to desperate hope (Dawn).

"Angel... it's not like she went to Italy or something. She's dead."

"Yeah, well so am I and I'm not lying down anytime soon. Wolfram & Hart brought Darla back from the dead, and..."

"_Darla_?" Giles looked up. "Darla is back?"

"Long story. Point is, they brought her back as a human. If they can do it with her, they can do it with Buffy."

"And they'd do this because they really like you and want you to be happy?" Xander was on his feet, slowly moving towards Angel.

"No, they'll do it because once I wring enough lawyer necks, they'll have no choice. Even if I have to take out every suit in LA."

"Right. And then Buffy's first job upon returning would be having to slay you."

"If that's what it takes!"

"No. I'm not gonna let you do it. I miss her as much as anyone, but I don't want her back that way." Angel and Xander were face to face now, staring each other down.

"You'll want to get out of my way, boy."

"Um... guys?"

Xander didn't budge. "I'm not going anywhere. You want to be evil again, you have to go through me. You know I've been looking for an excuse to fit you in a dustbuster."

"GUYS? There's another way..." Everyone grew quiet and turned towards Jonathan. "I-I was looking through Willow's books... some of the more advanced stuff... and there is a ritual here for restoring life to someone killed by supernatural means."

Everyone listened as Jonathan explained; compared to having Angel decimate Southern California, anything was a better idea. "...and we need something called an urn of Osiris..."

"Oh, I've got one." Giles seemed distracted. "I've been, er, using it as a paperweight."

"I don't get it. " Dawn spoke up for the first time, not really daring to believe. "If Willow knew about this spell, why wouldn't she tell us?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Maybe she didn't know. Or maybe she was afraid to. This is an incredibly powerful ritual – I know I couldn't do it."

"You mean you won't. You're scared." Angel's eyes were two slits, and it was obvious he wasn't scrapping his plan for neck-wringing just yet.

"Look, magic is more than just being able to pronounce Latin, OK? It's something you're born with – like, I could learn everything there is to know about basketball and I'd still be three feet too short for the NBA. Most people have enough to cast one or two simple spells, I have a bit more, but this – " Jonathan thumped the book and actually tried to meet Angel's stare – "channelling an ancient God? This requires power. _Lots_ of it. If I were to try it, I'd look like Alderaan post-Death Star before I got through the first line. This is pro league stuff. We need..."

"...we need Willow. Except you can't even find her..." And the yelling match was on again.

"I've got it!" Once again, all eyes turned in one direction. Anya. "How _difficult_ is that spell? Like if we could find someone who has never used magic but was born with as much power as Willow, could they do it?"

"Maybe... with some tech support... but people that strong are one in ten million, at least. It would take forever to find one."

"No it wouldn't. We can find one just like that this very afternoon." Anya had her cheery on and obviously considered the problem solved. Let's give our heroes a few seconds before they realise what she's thinking about, shall we?

"Oh... you can NOT be serious. Anya, that's..." Dawn, slowly shaking her head.

"Ahn... honey... I thought we'd talked about drinking before scooby meetings." Xander, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh dear Lord. You'd really do it." Giles, just now realizing that they were actually discussing this.

Anya kept arguing her case. "Look, I know it's not an ideal solution, but Buffy's dead. Without her we'll soon be knee-deep in vampires anyway. If this doesn't work, worst case scenario, we're right back where we started."

"I can handle her." Angel was on board with the idea, and despite their various half-hearted objections, the others seemed to think it was the lesser of two evils. Except Giles, who sat quietly with his head in his hands. Xander walked over to him.

"Giles..."

"I-it's wrong. It's dangerous, not to mention against all laws of... everything I stand for. Dead is dead, and it's not up to us to... God help me..."

"Tell us not to do it and we won't." Giles looked at him, opened his mouth... and then very deliberately shut it and looked away. Xander looked at Anya and nodded.

"Fine then, it's settled. We're going to the factory. Little man, have you ever envoked Eyrishon, the Endless One?"

* * *

_Ah, yes, this was more like it. This was the world she loved. Death, mayhem, the sweet smell of adrenaline-spiked blood... she threw herself into the fray, but barely got one step before one of the lousy white hats grabbed her and shoved her backwards. She felt something poke at her back, and_  
FLASH  
"Oh, fuck, not again. Why can't you people leave me alone... hey, where did... I go?" 

Xander leveled his crossbow at the redheaded vampire. "Hello, Willow."

* * *

_Author's note: Seems like a good cliffhanger to end on for Christmas. Will update some time next week (in the meantime, feedback makes a great Xmas gift). Happy Festivus, everyone!_  



	11. Two Of Us

(INTERLUDE) 

"This is weird."

Tara quickly glanced around to make sure no one heard her talking to herself. She'd left Willow sleeping at the motel, she seemed to need a lot of that having stayed up for... Tara wasn't exactly sure; whenever she'd try to recall what they had been doing before coming here it would be like trying to remember a dream; she'd almost get it, only to have it slip away, like some part of her didn't want to remember. Which was weird, but somehow seemed alright anyway.

She'd gone into town to get some supplies and find an ATM; they weren't completely out of cash, but would be soon. She'd found one, but it had rejected her card (which was a little weird, too) and the banks were closed, so she'd have to come back tomorrow. But then she'd walked past a video store, and "weird" had taken on a whole new meaning. At first she thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but when she went inside and looked closer there was no doubt. It _was_ her, every detail. They wouldn't let Tara rent it without an address, so she came up with an authentic-sounding LA address and left with the tape in her bag.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Two Of Us**_  
In which Willow is brought home. _

"This is weird."

Jonathan had done his part of the spell, and now he was all but forgotten by the others. He tried not to stare at Willow (no, not Willow, just a demon that looks like her, keep telling yourself that) as Angel tied her up and Xander laid down the law.

"OK, here's what's what. We need your help with something, and as long as you play nice, we'll send you right back when we're done. If you try anything, it's Dust City – and trust me, we're over the whole 'we-can't-kill-you-cause-you-look-like-her' thing. Are we clear?"

The vampire just glared at him, looking utterly miserable. Then... Jonathan wasn't sure, but he could have sworn she quickly looked at him. And winked.

They got her back to the house in the trunk of Xander's car. Once she was securely shackled in the basement and Angel and Jonathan had opened the first class of Magic For Dummies, Xander headed back to the car to take Anya back to his place. Giles was waiting for Xander by the door.

"How are you feeling?"

Xander shook his head. "Freaked. I'm still scared to death for Willow, and with that _thing _down there... it's like I don't know if I'm supposed to stake her or hug her."

"You have to remember that that's not Willow."

"But that's the scary part. Not that she's a vampire, I can handle that. But so much of her is exactly the Willow I've known all my life, only seriously, homicidally, Anthony-Perkins-on-drugs insane. Perverted."

Giles nodded. "I-I suppose for someone of Willow's intellect and personality to be turned into a monster... it must have been even more traumatic than it is for most people. Part of her would remember what she used to be, and -"

"Are we doing the right thing here, Giles?"

"Right?" Giles chuckled bitterly, and wouldn't lift his gaze from the floor. "No. Lord, no. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I don't think there's a right way to do this. Once you grab a tiger by the tail, the worst thing you can do is let go."

Xander nodded. "I'll be back in a few hours. Will you be OK until then?"

"Y-yes... I'll be upstairs with Dawn. She shouldn't have to... to deal..." Giles looked like he wanted to say something, but then turned and slowly walked upstairs, looking closer to 70 than 50.

* * *

Downstairs, Jonathan had started his crash course in magic while Angel stood guard. Willow was having none of it, though. She sat there, staring blankly ahead, looking like a sad cocker spaniel. Angel finally had enough. He made himself slap her hard and force her to look at the book Jonathan was holding. 

"Don't wanna. OW!" He hit her again.

"I don't care what you want. You _will_ learn this."

"Can't. Hungry."

"You'll be fed when you cooperate."

Willow licked her own blood off her lip where he'd split it, somehow managing to pout at the same time. "But you know what it's like when your entire body screams out for it, puppy... you can't think straight, you just need to feel that sweet, warm taste, the way it spreads through you, fills you up, makes you tingle all over... Do you really want me to do magic when I'm so weak I don't know what I'm doing? 'Cause I might, y'know, accidentally destroy the world or something."

Some more of this followed, but Angel realised he was getting nowhere, and this had all happened so fast they hadn't had time to get any extra blood. He checked his watch; it was after sundown, and he should be able to run over to the butcher's and be back in a few minutes. "OK, I'll get you some blood. It will be pig, and if I hear one complaint about that, there will be no blood at all. Got me?" She nodded, pouting. Angel looked at Jonathan. "Keep an eye on her. Do NOT talk to her. If she so much as tries to get loose, don't be a hero. Run upstairs and bolt the door." And he was off. Jonathan sat down on the stairs and picked up the crossbow.

She smiled at him and leaned back as if she was lying in a soft bed, not chained to a wall. "Alone at last..."

* * *

"Jonathan?" No answer. He tried to look cool, fiddling with the crossbow and sneaking a glance at her now and then. "Jonathan, please just talk to me. I'm so lonely and confused, and he hurt me..." 

"Shut up."

"Come on, Jonathan, it's me. How long have we known each other?"

"You're not Willow."

"No? You remember back in eighth grade, when you used to try and peek into the girls' locker room after gym class?"

He looked down, surprised and more than a little embarrassed. "You knew about that?"

"'Course I did. And you know, I was kinda flattered. I wasn't used to having boys notice me... wanting to see me naked..."

He shook his head. "Not buying it. You're evil."

"Well OK, sure, I am now, but I wasn't then. I know you, Jonathan. I know everyone always picked on you, never noticed you. Never saw who you really were, what you were capable of. But I always liked you, that's why you were the first I brought across... back in the real world."

"You _what_?" Jonathan stared at her, meeting her big green eyes... and she smiled at him like no woman ever had before.

"I sired you. Made you one of us. Made you strong. Powerful. And _wicked_ sexy. Oh, we had so much fun together, you and I. You wouldn't believe the things we did to the popular kids... or the bullies who used to pick on us... or to each other."

_Each other...? Oooo boy. _"B-but aren't you... you know... into girls?"

"Oh, is that what _she's_ told you?" The vampire rolled her eyes amusedly. "Sure, I don't mind a softer touch now and then... but that's one of the best things about this. There are no inhibitions, no rules, no strings attached... you get to do anything you want to _anyone_ you want anytime you want. And you used to do me soooo good, Jonathan."

"Stop it."

An innocent smile. "Aw, baby, that's no fun, you never used to say that. You could never get enough. We ruled Sunnydale and you loved it, the power, the passion, I could barely keep up. You were like a..." – a brief pause as she searched for the right word – "...a supervillain."

She let him soak in that for a minute. And soak he did – _God, when did it get so hot in here?_ Then she put on those big puppy-dog eyes again.

"Jonathan, I don't know why they brought me here, just that they wouldn't have done it unless they were really desperate. But after I do whatever it is they want me to do, they'll kill me."

"They said they'd send you back."

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Either way I'm dead. See, you saved my life, Jonathan. I was about to get killed when you pulled me into this world, and if your friends send me back, I have maybe half a second to live."

Jonathan was quiet.

"C'mon, I'm about to help you with something very important. Let's say I play along. All I'm asking in return is a chance to save myself afterwards. Then I'll go away and leave you to your comic books and Star Wars posters... or _anything_ else you want. But hey, maybe you think it's fair, for me to help you out and then be murdered in cold blood?"

Jonathan looked at the floor for a while before shrugging. "I guess it's not."

Willow smiled, gazing up at him. "There's the Jonathan I know. Let's work some magic, then."


	12. Nativity In Black

(INTERLUDE)

"Tara! Hey, Tara!"

Rats. She'd hoped she would be able to get back to the motel room without having to talk to Linda. Not that she had anything against her, exactly, but... She sighed and stepped into the office. "Hi."

"Hey! Haven't seen much of you two. Guess you've been pretty busy, huh?" Linda winked at her.

"Actually, Willow hasn't been feeling well." Tara suddenly felt she was being stared at like an exotic animal. Possibly a lemur. This girl was way too hung up on her and Willow.

"Oh. Whatever, I just think it's really cool that you two... you know... I've never actually met any... you know... anyway, hate to bother you about this, but otherwise the boss will have my ass... the money thing. You owe us for three nights."

"Yeah, I was just in town... the, um, ATM didn't work. I'll stop by the bank tomorrow."

"Could you? That'd be great, because as much as I like you two, Mr Felder will be knocking down your door tomorrow afternoon if you haven't paid by then. You don't have a credit card or anything?" She looked at the Visa Tara handed her and frowned. "Look, it's OK if you don't trust me enough to say where you're really from, but I checked every single map I could find and there is no Sunnydale in California or anywhere else in the US. So there can't be a First Bank Of Sunnydale either. No wonder the ATM didn't 'work'. Good fake, though."

"Oh." Somehow that made sense to Tara. She'd completely forgotten about... what was it again? She put the card back in her wallet and started rummaging for cash. There wasn't nearly enough. "But tomorrow will be fine?"

"Oh, sure!" Linda was all smiles again. "Just as long as I get it before three o'clock tomorrow."

"No problem." After all, Willow's card would surely work.

Tara got back to number 19, undressed and got into bed next to her girlfriend. Willow didn't wake up, but snuggled up to her in her sleep. Tara kissed her forehead and closed her eyes. Safe.

**  
Chapter 12: Nativity In Black**_  
In which the warrior of the people crosses over. So to speak._

He kept telling himself he was just playing along. Getting her to cooperate, to learn. Jonathan owed Buffy a lot, and he didn't want to leave her in the ground. For that, they needed Willow... um, that vampire. And for that, he needed her to think he was on her side. And so, he played along. That was all.

Except for the part where he'd lie awake at night knowing that _wasn't_ all. He had given her a way out; one that someone of her experience couldn't possibly... probably... hopefully use for anything else than a small chance to get away. He shouldn't have. She was evil. And it's not like he was actually considering becoming a powerful vampire overlord. But... he'd always had a thing for Willow, and to have her  
_(IT'S-NOT-HER!)_  
returning it was just... while he was teaching her she'd never take her eyes from him, and the way she'd smile, move, the way she could make even the most mundane words sound like an invitation... but also the way she would cower helplessly whenever Xander or Angel spoke to or hit her. It wasn't right. He couldn't just let her die. Besides, they had let her go last time, this was no different. And if anything went wrong, there was a failsafe. She was his responsibility, and he'd take care of her one way or another.

"Earth to Jonathan, hello?" He snapped out of it. Xander was waving his hand in his face. "Sorry to interrupt your daydreaming... nightdreaming... whatever, we've sort of got a spell to cast here?"

Jonathan looked at the others, sitting around Buffy's grave with lit candles in their hands. Xander and Angel staring at Willow with grim determination, Giles mostly looking at the headstone as if searching for a sign. He cleared his throat. "Alright. Let's do this." He cast a glance at the crossbow next to him, briefly patted his pocket to check that the talisman that would ground him here was where it should be, and then picked up his candle and lit it.

Willow, sounding utterly bored, started intoning the spell. "Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us..." As the cuts started appearing on her arms, ripping her outfit to shreds, she smiled and a moan of pleasure escaped her lips. She'd always liked pain.

Xander looked away in disgust. No matter what, that _thing_ was not surviving tonight. He couldn't bear to see what had been Willow like that.

* * *

She was enveloped in bright red energy as the blood in the urn started boiling and evaporated into a red fog, which spread over the grave and sank into the earth. The energy followed it, and Willow sat back with a dazed grin on her face. "Wow. Magic _is_ fun." 

"So, is that it? Is she back?" Xander reached for his shovel – tool and weapon in one. He could barely see anything; a second ago the whole glade had been lit up like a Christmas tree, and now there was just the fading bonfire.

"Almost. Just one more thing." Faster than anyone could react, she pulled out the powder Jonathan had given her and blew it against them. "_DISCEDE!_" She clapped her hands, and in a flash they were gone... except Jonathan, who within a second had his crossbow aimed dead center at her chest. She smiled at him. "Whaddyaknow. I kinda figured you might expect that. I bet you even hoped we'd get some alone time, baby. Why else would you teach me that... telewhatsit spell?"

"Teleportation. Where did you send them?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Now put that silly thing down and –"

"No." It was all a blur as he fired, she ducked and rolled and kicked him in the chest, landing on top, straddling him.

"Now that was downright rude. I thought you liked me, Jonathan." She ground her ass against him, and in spite of his fear his body couldn't help but react. She giggled. "Aw, you _do_ like me. That's sweet." He wanted to look away as she bent over him, her hair like a curtain around his face, but he couldn't. "So very sweet..."

* * *

_Dark._ That was her first thought. Absolute darkness, like nothing she'd ever known. Then came the feeling of being trapped. She fumbled around her, finding no more than a few inches on any side before touching on walls that were soft, but unyielding. She gasped for air and realized there was none. Madly scrambling for leverage on the plain surface in front of her, clawing, scratching, tearing her nails out against fabric, padding and finally bare wood. There was no room to pull back for a proper punch, but she was strong and soon she heard planks start to break under  
_(above)_  
her fists. Bones cracked in her hands, but she couldn't afford to let the pain stop her. It wasn't until dirt started pouring into her eyes, nose and mouth that she allowed herself to realize where she was.  
_(coffin oh god I died I'm buried I died I'm buried ALIVE)_  
Screaming with the last oxygen in her lungs, stars dancing before her eyes as he started to pass out, Buffy finally sat up straight, breaking the top of the coffin open with her forehead. The pain flashed like lightning, giving her the few extra seconds she needed to start crawling in mad panic through the hole, the jagged edges tearing at her dress, skin, flesh. She swam through the earth, reached up and felt her fingers touch grass, then air... and the second before she finally lost consciousness, she felt a hand grab hers and pull. 

When she came to, she was lying on the grass. She opened her eyes... and looked straight into Jonathan's face, just a few inches from hers. His eyes were open, but they'd never see anything again; the blood was already starting to dry on the bite wound in his neck, and even in her confused state Buffy knew a dead body when she saw one. There was a sharp pain on her calf, and she realized her dress  
_(shroud)_  
had ended up in the fire she was lying next to. She flailed at her legs with broken hands, somehow putting the fire out. As she sat there gasping in the ashes someone crouched down next to her and she spun around.

"W-Willow?"

"Hey Buffy. How you doing?" Her best friend gave her a tired smile.

"What... how... where... "

"Yeah, right there with ya. Don't like this place anymore than you do."

Buffy looked around her. Darkness. Fire. And something next to her... a tombstone. She tried to get her eyes to focus, reading the words _BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS_ several times before she understood them. "What... Is this... hell?"

"Oh, not quite yet", Willow beamed. Then she vamped out. "But let's see what we can do about it." As teeth sank into her neck Buffy tried to struggle, but she was simply too weak, and she felt her life draining from her as everything grew dimmer and more distant. When Willow let her go she was already too far gone to even move. Her last conscious thought in what turned out to be a very short life was that the thick, rich, cold liquid that suddenly filled her mouth tasted like blood.

Swallowing it was pure instinct.


	13. TV Set

**Chapter 13: TV Set**_  
In which we learn that yes, television can be educational. Plus, Willow and Tara actually do something._

Tara loved watching Willow wake up. It was a gradual thing accompanied by mumbling, some incredibly cute grimacing and twitching before one eye – usually her left – would open just slightly and she'd smile. "Good morning..."

"Morning, 'Mrs Maclay'."

Willow grinned with her whole face – _yup, I could get used to that_. "Would that make you Mister?"

"Oh God, I hope not." Tara peeked under the covers. "Phew." Giggles, and more cuddlage.

"What time is it?"

"Um... Wednesday. You've been pretty out of it for a couple of days."

"Oh." Willow thought about it. "I guess we should probably get up then, huh...?"

"Oh no. I'm definitely prescribing some more bedrest for both of us."

"'Kay." Willow didn't exactly seem unhappy about it. She gave Tara a quick kiss then scooted over to rest her head on her girlfriend's chest. "You know, I had the weirdest dreams..."

"You always have weird dreams, sweetie. Do I have to bring up the one about the dancing apples?"

"But these were... they just seemed real. And kinda creepy. You were in them..."

"Gee, thanks."

"... and there were some other people, and it felt like I'd known them my whole life... a girl, and a guy, and a couple of older people... and we were, like, saving the world from monsters. Vampires and werewolves and Frankenstein and, you know, stuff like that. There was even a vampire who looked like me. Oh, and you and I could do magic, and... " She looked at Tara, who was looking a bit too amused for Willow's taste. "OK, this is the part where you're supposed to tell me I'm not crazy."

"Um... maybe we should put the whole crazy-not-crazy thing on hold until we've seen what I found in town."

Tara wriggled out of bed despite Willow's protests and reached for her shopping bag, pulling out a video tape.

"Aww, baby, you got us some porn."

"It's not porn. At least I don't think so." Tara read the text on the back. "Have you ever heard of an actress named Alyson Hannigan?"

"Nope. Come back to bed."

"You sure?"

"I think I'd remember a goofy name like that", Willow replied.

"And you've never seen a movie called _American Wedding_?"

"Never heard of it."

"OK, this might weird you out a bit." Tara put the tape in the ancient VCR, pressed play, switched on the TV and got back into bed to watch the movie.

* * *

About an hour and a half later, the credits rolled. As did Willow's eyes. 

"OK, now that... that... that was just... wrong. On so many levels. Wrong with a capital wruh."

Tara was a bit creeped out herself, but the look on Willow's face was just priceless and she couldn't help but laugh. "Sweetie, you never told me you were a movie star."

"But that wasn't... that couldn't have been... I would never..." Willow's mouth kept moving, but for a while she couldn't find anything else to say. "I mean... There were... and I... and they... OK, so at least it wasn't evil vampire me, but..."

"I don't know about that, I mean, there was the bit with the... um... sucking..." Tara collapsed in giggles as a pillow hit her straight in the face.

"STOP it!"

Tara's smile faded when she saw that Willow was really freaked. "Will, relax. It's not you, it's just some weird coincidence... I mean, if you had starred in a multi-million dollar movie, surely you'd know?"

"But that's just it, I don't remember _not_ starring in a movie. I don't remember..." She was seriously distraught now. "Tara, where are we from? Where are we going? Where do we belong and how do we get back there? Who ARE we? I barely remember anything before driving up to the motel. Not that those are bad memories, but y'know, unless I'm only four days old there's gotta be something missing here, right? Is it just me...?"

Tara slowly shook her head. "No, it's not just you. I don't either. But whenever I try to remember, I get this feeling like... I don't remember for a reason, and it's better to leave it alone. We're happy here, and if we've worked that hard to forget something, maybe it's for the best?" Actually, that didn't make as much sense when she said it aloud. "OK, tell you what. We'll get dressed, we'll go into town and get some cash, and then we'll rationally and logically try to figure this out. That sound good?"

"Sounds great. 'Cept for the getting dressed part."

"I know..." Tara kissed her. "But I'd like to avoid that Linda girl, something about her just gives me the creeps. And walking naked across the yard just isn't very inconspicuous. Besides, we have to return the movie." Tara ejected the tape, but when the VCR was turned off the morning news came on instead. Tara jumped at the sudden increase in volume and reached out to turn the TV off.

"DON'T!" Willow was sitting straight up in bed, staring at the screen. At the young woman's face filling most of it as the anchorman started on a new story.

_"On a happier note, here's a story about what some people in the medical community are already calling - a miracle. Bryan Gregory reports."_

_"Thank you, Jim. I'm here at Napa State Mental Hospital, where recently something extraordinary happened. Five years ago, 15-year-old cheerleader and honor student Buffy Summers was admitted to this hospital after what was thought to be a nervous breakdown, but rapidly deteriorated into acute psychosis which left her catatonic and virtually unable to communicate with the outside world. For five years she remained like that, not responding to any treatment, and her doctors and family had all but given up hope. Then, just over a week ago, the impossible happened; Buffy suddenly sat up and announced that she was back and wanted to go home. Not only was she conscious again, but most of her symptoms had disappeared almost overnight. According to medical expertise, this is almost unprecedented. Earlier today, Dr. Rupert and Buffy's family held a press conference." _

The screen showed a handsome black doctor answering questions, while the girl, flanked by a man and a woman who had to be her parents, mostly picked at her sweatshirt and looked very shy.

_"...in 20 years of working with patients with severe mental disorders, I have never seen a case like this. It seems that Buffy simply decided to become healthy and jump back into the real world. And what's more, she has very vivid memories of the... delusions she suffered while she was ill. With the right therapy, we have every reason to hope that not only will Buffy be able to return to her own life, but her experiences will be very useful in helping us understand and help others suffering from the same problems. Yes, I'll take one more question."_

_"Actually, if that's OK with you, Doctor, I'd like to ask Buffy how she's feeling."_

The doctor nodded to Buffy. Her mother put her arm around her shoulders, supportively. There was a pause as the girl seemed to consider the question, her eyes darting across the group of reporters, blinking at the TV cameras' harsh light.

_"I-I feel... like I don't belong in this place anymore. I just want to go back h-home. I want to be myself again. I'm very grateful to everyone... everyone's been really nice and I know I still need help... I want to go home."_

Her father smiled, leaned over and kissed her forehead. The doctor smiled as well.

_"I'm sure you'll get to go home very soon, Buffy. You're strong, and with some help, you'll be back to your old life in no time."_

The report was over and the camera was once again on the anchorman in the studio.

_"A miracle - or just modern medicine at work? A heartwarming story, in any case. Here's Tom with the weather."_

Tara turned off the TV with a puzzled expression on her face. Something about that girl... then she looked at Willow, who was still sitting straight up, her face white like she'd seen a ghost. "Willow? Are you alright?"

"That..." She swallowed. "That was the girl I saw in my dreams. I think I know her." In her head, Willow replayed what the girl – Buffy? – had said. "Did she just ask for help to get back home?"

* * *

_Author's note: Hope no one went "You gotta be KIDDING me..." We'll be back in Sunnydale next chapter._


	14. Picking Up After You

**Chapter 14: Picking Up After You**_  
In which the Scoobies try to make sense of the mess they made of Buffy's anti-funeral._

It had been a slow night for Anya and Dawn. None of them had been too happy about waiting behind while the others went off to raise Buffy from the dead, but Giles had insisted (and tried to divert the discussion from Anya's remarks about typical male behavior). He didn't want Dawn anywhere near either Willow or magic that powerful – at least not until they'd figured out exactly what her status was, magical key-wise – and with Anya still in her wheelchair, just getting back and forth to the grave would simply be too much work. And so they waited; to Anya it was annoying, to Dawn it was torture. Any second, she figured, the door would open... and then what? Even though she missed her sister so much it hurt, so much that everything else got pushed aside, part of Dawn hoped they would return with sad faces and slumped shoulders, telling her the spell hadn't worked and that Buffy really was gone. At least that would be final. But what if Buffy actually walked through that door... as what? A zombie, despite what Jonathan had said? The cheery, supportive big sister she remembered from before Sunnydale or the suicidal girl that had jumped off that tower? Where would she have been and what would it do to her? Could things really go back to the way they had been...?

"So... do you want to do something?" Anya gave up pretending to watch TV. "Like, play poker?" Dawn just shook her head. "If you want, I could lend you some money to play for..."

The door burst open and Xander rushed in, limping and bleeding from a cut on his forehead. "In the car. Now."

"You're back!" Anya beamed, then instantly became worried. "And you're hurt! Did she try to eat your brain?"

"I'll explain in the car. But we have to get out of here."

* * *

Angel was running through the woods, replaying the events of the past few minutes in his head. One second he was sitting by Buffy's grave, the next he was standing on the road a mile away, and only barely avoided getting hit by an oncoming truck. As he'd made his way back into the woods, he'd only taken a few steps before a rustling made him look up – just in time to break Xander's fall as the boy dropped out of the tree where the spell had sent him.

"You alright?"

Xander panted, obviously in pain. "I think so. A bit beat up."

"What happened back there?"

"Teleportation spell, I think. Willow - our Willow - used it against Glory. Jonathan must have taught her... I swear, when I get my hands on him..." Xander got up and started limping deeper into the woods, but Angel grabbed him.

"No. If she's still there, I can take her, but if she's not... Dawn and Anya are alone in the house, and Willow has been invited. Take them to your apartment and lock the door."

"But... Buffy..."

"We don't even know if the spell worked. But we've got an insane vampire on the loose and we need to cover all bases. Go."

Xander looked at him, wanting to say something sarcastic... then turned and made off towards where they'd parked the cars. Angel started running through the thick brush, making straight for the glade where Buffy's grave had been.

* * *

"So what happened to Giles? A-and Jonathan?" Dawn was still trying to take it all in as Xander sped through a red light.

"I don't know. Maybe she didn't have enough power to send us all very far – me and Angel ended up in almost the same spot. But for all we know, she could have sent them to the moon. I'll go out and look later."

"But what about..." Dawn barely dared ask. "What about Buffy?"

"Who knows? _If_ Jonathan taught her the right spell, and _if_ she got it right, and _if_ nothing else went wrong... Angel is there now, and as much as I hate to admit it, he can probably handle this better than we could. If she's alive, he'll find her. If not..." His voice caught, and he swallowed hard. "If not, at least we tried." But he knew there was a third possibility, too horrible to even think about. Yet he couldn't stop. _Why would she perform the spell and THEN get rid of us? What good would a LIVE Buffy be to a vampire?_

* * *

Angel burst into the clearing, almost stumbling over Jonathan's body, noticing it and then concentrating on what was important.  
_(They all matter... bullshit)_  
He kneeled on Buffy's grave and examined the hole. _Pushed up – not dug up. She's alive._ For a second, he couldn't think, torn between joy and horror. The spell had worked – at least partly, maybe completely. Something had awakened down there and dug itself out. 

"BUFFY!"

No answer, nothing moving anywhere near him. The woods were silent, not so much as a bird fluttering away. He sniffed the air, and smelled blood. Above all, the burnt blood of the deer they'd used for the spell; the whole glade stank with it. Then there was Jonathan, of course, and there was still a little left in him; she hadn't drained him to the last drop, just taken enough to kill him. He'd done it himself a few hundred times when he was in a hurry. But there were two other familiar smells. He'd smelled Buffy's blood more times than he wanted to remember, after fights, during the night they'd made love, the time she'd forced him to feed off her... the smell had been with him for years, but this was fresh. And it was all over the place, starting in the hole; she'd hurt herself climbing out, there were a couple of really nasty-looking splinters drenched in red... if she _was_ walking around somewhere, she probably needed medical attention. Soon.

But then there was the vampire. She'd bled. There were still droplets of her blood on the grass and on Jonathan's corpse. Had she turned him? Had he drunk? He couldn't afford to find out. Angel picked up the shovel Xander had brought, put the blade to Jonathan's throat... and paused. Jonathan had brought this on himself; he _must_ have given that spell to Willow, probably the time he'd left them alone together. Which meant this was another one he'd messed up, another one he hadn't been able to save... he could only remember having seen Jonathan once before all this, before he left Sunnydale. It was at the mayor's ascension. He remembered admiring the little boy who'd thrown himself into the fray against vampires twice his size and ten times his strength, shielding Cordelia with his body as the school blew up... maybe that had impressed Angel too much. Maybe he wouldn't have left him alone with Willow if he hadn't seen that. Now here he was, just another corpse, only possibly not for much longer. "I'm sorry, Jonathan. I guess it doesn't pay to be a hero." Angel put his foot on the shovel and pushed, beheading the body.

He tried to track the smells, but the vampire's veins had healed quickly and her scent ended at the edge of the glade. Buffy's continued  
_(dripping)_  
right up to the road, where it stopped suddenly. Angel sniffed in all directions, getting nothing.

She was gone.

* * *

"Please... lady... I have two kids..." Joey was scared to death. He'd only been a cab driver for a couple of weeks, or else he probably would have known better than to pick up customers in Sunnydale after dark. She'd thrown the body in the back seat before he could react, then told him where to go in a tone that didn't ask for any objections. He'd driven to the old high school praying all the way to any saints he could think of. "I swear I won't tell anyone you're here... or what you..."

"Ssssssh." Willow smiled and put her finger to his lips. "It's gonna be OK. I promise." His neck broke like a dry twig, and she picked up the body of the Slayer and carried it inside the burnt-out building. She remembered liking the library, and for some reason it seemed right that her childe should be born there.


	15. I Wish I Never Saw The Sunshine

**Chapter 15: I Wish I Never Saw The Sunshine**

_In which we get exposition on vampire Slayers and Slayer vampires. And oh: crime!_

Dawn heard the banging on the door. The sun had been up for a few minutes and even though part of her was still screaming _it's Buffy! _she didn't allow herself to believe it was anyone but Angel. A pretty good guess as it turned out, only he wasn't alone. He was carrying Giles.

"Oh my God, is he...?"

"Unconscious, but I think he's fine. I found him just a few blocks from here. I think he's hit his head again. Is Xander in? I haven't been invited, and you don't really live here..."

Anya rolled out into the living room. "Do fiancées count? Come in, Angel."

Apparently that was close enough, and Angel could carry Giles inside and put him on the sofa. "Fiancée?" Anya nodded, distracted and worried about Xander. "Congratulations. Where is he?"

"Out looking for Giles. I tried telling him it was dangerous, and stupid, and that he'd wind up getting himself killed or eaten, or probably both, but he wouldn't listen."

Angel nodded. "Dawn, you might want to sit down." He told them what he'd found at Buffy's grave, and about the fruitless hours he'd spent tearing around Sunnydale desperately trying to pick up her scent again.

"So is she alive or not?"

He'd been ready for Dawn to break down, but once again she surprised him... and scared him. She seemed much too calm, as if she'd gone past the point where anything could hurt her. "I'm sorry, I really don't know. She could be out there, confused, trying to find us."

"Or maybe she doesn't want to be found. Maybe she was happier without us. She killed herself, remember?"

Angel wished he had a reply for that, but he didn't. "When Xander gets back, you should go look for her. I wish I could but..."

"Sunlight. Vampire. Right. It's not like I'd ask you to run around with a blanket over your head or anything."

He reached out to comfort her, but she just stood up and walked into the guestroom, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Angel handed Giles a glass of water. He looked awful, his face bruised and swollen, but at least he didn't seem to be seriously hurt. It was almost noon, Xander and Dawn had left just an hour ago to do a sweep around Sunnydale, starting with the house. 

"Like I was just teleported straight into a brick wall. Where are the others? Is everyone..."

Angel filled him in.

"Oh dear Lord. So you don't have any idea what's happened to her?" Giles sat up, still obviously in pain. "A-are you sure she wasn't... that Willow didn't..."

Angel shook his head. He had been forcing himself not to think about that, but he had to know. "If she has... what would that make Buffy?"

For a long time, Giles didn't answer. The idea of Buffy being turned was just too appalling to even consider, but he was a watcher and it was time for him to do his job."The thing you need to understand is that no one really knows what a Slayer _is_. The watchers are perfectly happy to use her as a weapon, but if anyone ever knew where her power comes from, that knowledge was lost centuries if not millennia ago. Some have speculated that the Slayer's powers are demonic in origin, which makes as much sense as anything, I suppose... What we do know is that all Slayers appear to be torn between two impulses; the urge to protect – even Faith at her darkest had that – and the lust for the kill. Normally, those two impulses balance out, work together to create an instrument of good. However, imagine a Slayer where you remove the...humanity."

"A vampire."

Giles cringed. "Quite. It stands to reason that whatever the dark side of the Slayer is, demonic or not, would only become stronger. There are... some known cases, though surprisingly few. I believe the most well-documented case was in 1682, when a German slayer named Anna was turned."

"And what happened?"

"You... might say she found her calling. She turned into a single-minded, cold-blooded murderer, worse than any other vampire."

Angel nodded. "Sounds familiar."

Giles suddenly slammed his glass down on the table, cold fury in his voice. "Don't you fucking DARE sound that flippant about it. I don't need any reminders of what you were. The others may choose to overlook it, but I can't. I've never forgotten for one second what you did to Jenny and me. But you had one weakness, you..." Angel didn't respond, and Giles calmed down as old wounds poured into new ones and he just couldn't focus on staying angry. "Y-you enjoyed yourself... you loved hurting people. Anna, on the other hand, would never do anything as... _human_ as to taunt her victims, play with them, torture them. She was only in it for the kill, starting with everyone she had known in her life – her watcher, her family, her friends, her home town. As if she wanted to eradicate everything that reminded her she hadn't always been a monster. And after six months as a moderately successful Slayer, she was fantastic at it."

Angel was silent for a while. "So if Buffy..."

"Then God help us all."

* * *

Willow and Tara sat down for a cup of coffee and a what-the-hell-is-going-on talk. It had only taken only two stops – bank and library – to confirm what was _not_ going on. The bank clerk had threatened to call the cops when Willow showed him her First Bank Of Sunnydale card, which meant that they were down to the cash they had on them, and not a single atlas of California showed anything called Sunnydale. A google search had only brought up a few hits, all related to a pilot for an old TV series that never got picked up. Yet their pockets were filled with UC Sunnydale student IDs, receipts from various stores in Sunnydale, and some phone numbers – all with an area code that, apparently, didn't exist. And still, none of them could remember anything specific from before they came here.

"OK, so if Allen Funt doesn't turn up in the next five minutes, I think it's safe to say we're not in Kansas anymore. And if I click my heels together any more, I'm going to wear holes in my shoes." Willow was still a bit freaked – it's not every day you discover that you don't know who you are. Tara reached across the table and took her hand, smiling.

"It's OK. We'll figure this out."

"Tara...we need to go see her. I don't know if she has any idea what's going on, but there has to be a reason I've been dreaming about her."

"Sweetie, you heard what they said. She's been in a mental institution for five years,what can she possibly know?"

"I don't know, but... call it a notion with a side of hunch. Also, what else is there? We can stay here until we run out of money, or we can follow the only lead we have. Just trust me on this, please."

Tara smiled at her girlfriend. She might not remember her own life, but she knew Willow loved her, and that made her feel like she could do anything. "You know I do. If this is what you want to do, I'm behind you 100 percent. Besides, it's just a few hours' drive."

"Yeah, about that... we have just enough money to gas up the car _or_ pay the motel bill..."

* * *

Linda heard the roar of the Mustang as it tore out of the motel parking lot. _Damn, they're in a hurry... uh-oh. Wait a second._ She left the office and ran to room 19. Empty, just the key on the table. The note promising they'd mail the money had been blown behind the radiator by the draft when she opened the door, and she didn't see it. 

"Fucking... DYKES!" Here she'd gone out of her way to be friendly to them, and not only had they avoided her, now they'd taken off without paying their bill. That was coming out of her paycheck, and Mr Felder wouldn't let her forget it anytime soon – if he didn't simply fire her. No way they were getting away with this. But what if she could get back at them and Boss From Hell at the same time? She walked back to the office, and as she picked up the phone she opened the cash register and started stuffing money in her pockets.

"Hello? Police? I'd like to report a robbery..."


	16. Woke Up This Morning, Found Myself Dead

**Chapter 16: Woke Up This Morning And Found Myself Dead**_  
In which, at long last, Buffy is back._

"I'm sorry, but Ms Summers isn't taking any visitors. Especially after the news story this morning. You'll just have to wait for the next press conference."

"But we're not reporters, we're her friends... we've been waiting for her to wake up for years." Willow hadn't expected the nurse to simply take them to Buffy, but she had no idea how to break into a mental hospital and so they'd decided to try it the correct way first. Even if she had to make it up as she went along, and she had never been a good liar.

"Look, we just want to talk to her for a few minutes, we've missed her so much... we were best friends all the way through high school, um, junior high, I mean. If she's really feeling better, surely she'll want to see her friends, right? I mean, that can only help getting her to feel better and adjust and... you're not going to let us in, are you?"

The nurse shook her head, though not unkindly. "I'm sorry. Doctor's orders. If you really are her friends, I'm sure you'll appreciate that Buffy still needs a lot of therapy before she's ready to come back into the world. She's much better, but still very disoriented. If you want to see her, I suggest you take it up with her parents. If they say it's OK, maybe we can set something up."

"OK, thanks anyway." Willow and Tara walked back into the waiting area. "Now what?"

* * *

"Now what?" 

"Now I rest for a few minutes." Xander sat down heavily and looked at Dawn. He'd been running on caffeine and adrenaline for 36 hours, his entire body still hurt from the fall he'd taken, Willow was still missing, a demon wearing her face was running free, and Buffy was missing presumed having gone _Night Of The Living Dead_ - and that was the best case scenario. Toll was definitely being taken. They'd been driving around all day, not finding so much as a trace of either Willow or Buffy. "Then, as soon as the sun sets, me, Angel and Giles go back out and keep searching."

"And then what?"

"Then we keep doing that until we find her. Even if it takes years. Dawn, I promise you we'll find her. Everyone here loves Buffy, we owe her our lives, and even if we've f... messed this up, we're not going to give up until we know for sure where she is."

* * *

"Look! There she is!" 

Tara pointed to Buffy, who was walking back towards the building they were in after apparently spending some time in the garden. A male nurse had been walking with her, dwarfing her completely, but left her as she stepped inside. She looked so small and weak, walking with hear head down, as if she had to carry the weight of the world and could barely take one more step. When she came into the lobby and passed Willow and Tara, she looked up briefly. And flinched. For a second it looked like she was going to faint, or possibly scream, then she swallowed and forced a very thin smile. "Hey, guys. Good to see you."

"Hey, Buffy." Tara was the one to respond; Willow's mind was still in freewheel mode, cogwheels spinning but nothing clicking. _I know her... I've never seen her before... she knows me... What is going on here?_

Buffy looked to the nurse behind the desk, apparently choosing her words very carefully. "Miss Kramer... they're my best friends, and I haven't seen them in five years. I know I'm not supposed to have visitors, but could we just have five minutes? Please?"

The nurse checked around for the doctor; she'd worked here for three years and always felt sorry for Buffy, and she knew the girl still had a lot to go through before she would be healthy. She couldn't see how this could do any harm. "OK, five minutes, but not a second more. Take the exam room to your left."

They'd barely gotten inside and closed the door before Buffy jumped on Willow and hugged her, literally weeping with joy. "God, Willow... it's you... it's really you... they told me you weren't real, that you were just me being sick and delirious, making up fantasies and stories... but you're real, you're here, you came for me, I'm not crazy, I love you..."

Willow felt incredibly awkward, even though part of her wanted to hug this strange girl right back. She glanced at Tara, who managed to look amused and spooked at the same time. "Um... Buffy... oxygen?"

Buffy took a step back, and Willow moved closer to Tara and took her hand. "Would this be a bad time to tell you that we have no idea who you are or if we've ever met before or why we're here or where we're from or why it feels like I've known you since forever even though I've never seen you before, but _only_ as a friend" (that comment was more towards Tara) "because, you know, I'm all with the love between friends and so on, but... what?"

Buffy was actually laughing, a little too shrilly. "Nothing, it's just... Willowbabble. You have no idea how I've missed that."

"Missed? But how..."

"Don't worry, I can explain, but we have to get out of here. We need to get back to Sunnydale... everything's going wrong there, but we can fix it, we can make it right, we just need to... how did you get here anyway?"

"We... drove?"

"No, I don't mean here here, I mean..." Buffy waved her arms, as if trying to indicate the entire world. "You know... _here_ here? Not-just-in-my-head here?"

Tara looked at the strange girl in the hospital gown, frowned, and whispered to Willow. "Um, are you really sure about this?" Willow hesitated, then nodded. She didn't want to debate this in front of Buffy, but yes, some part of her that had nothing to do with logic and hospitals and common sense knew that Buffy was right. Explanations could wait. She squeezed Tara's hand. _Just trust me on this, please._ "Fine, then. Will that nurse outside let us go?"

"No. No way. She's nice and all, but..."

Tara nodded. "OK. Get ready to run." She opened the door and ran outside. "Mi-miss Kramer? There's... oh God, Buffy... so much b-b-blood..." The nurse turned white as her blouse and came running right away. As she stormed inside the exam room, Tara gave her a shove just hard enough so she tumbled on top of the bed at the far end. Then she pulled a very proud Willow and a giggling Buffy outside and locked the door.

"Let's go."

* * *

Buffy woke up with a gasp. All around her was dark, yet she could see perfectly. For a fraction of a second she thought she was back inside her casket, then she recognized what was left of the library. She remembered what had happened... and felt power and hunger surging through her, like nothing she'd ever known. 

_All those years of fighting without this... how on Earth did I survive?_

Then:

_WHY did I do it? I risked my life for... WHAT? A bunch of sniveling do-gooders?_

She sat up, suddenly filled with revulsion at what she'd been.

"How you feeling, baby?" Willow moved up next to her, a wicked smile on her face. Buffy didn't move as her sire tenderly wiped her still wet hair out of her face – she'd made sure Buffy was clean for her rebirth, washed every inch of her from dirt and blood and gotten her some fresh clothes, white as death. She thought they must make a gorgeous couple; black and white, red and yellow... and oh, the mayhem they'd make of this place. Willow leaned in and kissed her deeply, letting her hands wander downwards, exhilarated at the thought of having made such a beautiful monster... then pulled back, a bit confused, as she got no response at all. Oh well, her baby girl _was_ kinda new at this, she'd come around.

"You wanna have some fun, sweetheart?"

"Fun?" Buffy frowned. The word had no meaning to her. "No. I want them to pay."

"Works for me. Let's go."

* * *

Trooper Wilkins was just waiting for his shift to end when the Mustang sped by, doing at least 100. He switched on the siren and gave chase, but the other car didn't slow down. 

"Dispatch, I'm in pursuit of a green late 60s Mustang, registration number..."

The response was quick. _"Car is reported stolen, and last seen driven by two young women wanted in connection with a motel robbery... wait a second, there's something just coming in. They're also wanted for the kidnapping of a patient from Napa State. They're to be considered dangerous and possibly armed."_

Wilkins acknowledged, requested backup and put his foot down, closing the distance between the two cars.


	17. Highway To Hell

**Chapter 17: Highway To Hell**_  
In which everything generally goes somewhere in a handbasket._

_SUNNYDALE _

Dawn heard the banging on the door. The sun had been down for about an hour and even though part of her was still screaming _it's Buffy!_ she didn't allow herself to believe it was anyone but Angel; he, Xander and Giles had gone out, armed to the teeth, a few minutes ago. She opened the door.

"Hello, Dawnie."

Dawn just stared, too much in shock to see the coldness in Buffy's eyes. Then she saw someone move in the dark hallway – red hair, black leather... "BUFFY! Behind you!" The Slayer spun around with the greatest of ease, her fist hitting a very surprised Willow square in the face. Buffy was on top of her before she hit the floor.

"Wha... baby, what's..."

"I told you you had to pay. All of you." Buffy pulled out the stake she'd found lying around in the library and staked the vampire bearing her best friend's face. She had served her purpose. When she stood up, Dawn was running towards her, throwing her arms around her, tears of joy streaking her face.

"You're back... you came back..." Dawn gasped as she felt Buffy grab her, roughly, by the shoulders and break the embrace. When Dawn looked at her, it was a demon's face looking back.

"All of you."

* * *

_HIGHWAY_

As they sped towards where Sunnydale had once been, Buffy explained as quickly as she could, right from the beginning; vampires, demons, slayage, high school, souls, mayors, hellgods, magic, death. And then waking up in a hospital, and slowly starting to believe that the doctors were right when they told her it was all a fantasy... until Willow and Tara showed up. Willow thought about it, knew it all sounded ridiculous but somehow felt in her gut that it was true.

"So OK, you died in our world and came here, wherever 'here' is. I get that. Or you know, I don't 'get it' get it, but... But how did we get here? Because we obviously don't belong here."

"I really don't know," Buffy shrugged. "I don't think it's important. Maybe the magic you picked up in the fight against Glory allowed you to break on through. Maybe it was me; they had me on some pretty strong medicine, maybe I could somehow make you manifest here... but if you could get through, then we should be able to find our way back somehow. What I don't get is why you don't remember anything."

Tara had sat quietly in the back seat up until now. "M-maybe... I don't know, but I think maybe I did that." They both turned to her – Willow very briefly, since she was driving, but she looked all the more worried for it. "You say I'm a witch too. Well, whenever I try to think of what happened before all this it's like something tells me I don't want to... like there was some painful memory I won't allow myself to remember."

Buffy remembered Mr Maclay and the shy, awkward Tara she had known before, and then the confident, kind woman who had saved her from the mental hospital. _Would I want to remember that if it was me?_ Tara put her hand on Willow's shoulder. "I'm thinking maybe I put a-a hex on us both, made us forget... I'm so sorry... if I did, there must have been..."

Willow covered her hand with her own and smiled. "It's OK, Tara. We'll get back, and we'll figure it out. You know I..." She was interrupted by a siren shrieking to life behind them, and looked in the rearview mirror to see the State Trooper's car behind them. "Oh shit, it's the fuzz!" The others looked at her. "OK, not the most helpful movie cliché. Do we pull over?"

"NO!" Buffy was suddenly panicking. "They'll take me back, and... there's not much time, we need to get to Sunnydale NOW. It's somewhere around here, we have to find it. GO!"

For a few minutes, Willow kept the distance to the police car, but eventually Trooper Wilkins got his orders and started closing in. "Um, Buffy? How's that dimensional off-ramp coming?"

"I can't find it... I know we're in the right place, more or less, but..." Buffy closed her eyes, trying to picture what was happening in Sunnydale. "No... it's her. She's me." _One girl in all the world... right._ "There's another Buffy there. As long as she's there, I don't think I can go back."

* * *

_SUNNYDALE_

Angel wasn't sure why he was going back. They should be out combing the streets for Buffy and Willow, but for some reason he felt there was something he'd forgotten at Xander's place that he really needed. The others grudgingly followed as he started first walking, then running.

* * *

_SUNNYDALE_

"Please, Buffy... d-don't do this..." Dawn was trying to comprehend what was happening, but still in too much shock to do anything.

"Why not?"

"I'm your sister... you love me..."

"SHE loved you." There was no emotion in the Slayer's voice, just cold hard facts. "She loved a lot of things. It made her weak. No friends. Just the kill." As Buffy sank her teeth into Dawn's neck, something moved inside the apartment.

"HEY!" Anya yelled at the top of her lungs, and grabbed and threw the closest thing she could find that was throwable – it turned out to be a vase. It struck Buffy right in her temple, hardly hurting her but distracting her just enough for Dawn to slip out of her grip. Buffy went for Anya, but bounced in the doorway; she wasn't welcome here. Turning on Dawn, she struck out with superhuman speed, aiming for her sister's head but she was off by a fraction of a second; her fist shattered Dawn's collarbone and the girl went tumbling, screaming in agony. Before Buffy had time to finish the job Angel stepped between them, sword in hand.

* * *

_HIGHWAY_

Wilkins pulled the cruiser up next to the speeding Mustang, glared at the young woman driving and yelled "PULL OVER!" He saw her cast a terrified look at him... then the blonde next to her grabbed the wheel, turned it and suddenly he had to swerve violently to avoid a collision. His car went into a skid, did a 360 and eventually came to a halt on the roadside, his entire body shaking. _Damn, that's it. That's attempted murder._ Furious, he whipped out his service revolver and fired after the other car.

"What the HELL are you doing?" Willow was yelling at Buffy, trying to keep the car under control. "You wanna drive this thing?" She glanced in the rear view mirror, sighing with relief when she saw that the cop hadn't crashed his car... then all hell broke loose as the windshield shattered around two neat holes. Willow instinctively ducked and waited for more bullets, but they were already out of range. "Phew. That was a bit too close for..."

That's weird. She looked at the broken windshield. There was blood on it.

"Hey, is everyone alright?" She looked to her right – Buffy seemed OK – then kept turning her head... "TARA?"

And the whole world fell away as she saw Tara lying in the backseat, blood gushing from a large red hole in her upper chest where the bullet had exited. She was breathing in short, shallow gasps, all color drained from her face as she tried to move, not sure what had happened to her.

* * *

_SUNNYDALE_

"Come to save her again, Angel? Come to fail again?"

Angel didn't answer, just gripped his sword tighter as he and Buffy circled each other. She kept talking, her tone eerily flat – completely emotionless except for the mocking overtone she put in there for his sake.

"You know, she waited for you. She actually thought you were coming. Now here you are, only it's too late again, isn't it? Don't worry, I'll make it quick."

She spun around faster than should have been possible and kicked, hitting Angel hard in the chest. The pain was intense as most of his ribs broke, but for a second she was off balance and Angel saw his opening. His muscles were so used to fighting that he hardly knew what he was doing until he did it. The sword swung and connected with Buffy's neck, slicing her head clean off. Angel instinctively caught it with his free hand the way you catch a football.

For a brief moment he held her head in his hand before it crumbled to dust and ran through his fingers.

* * *

_HIGHWAY_

"Tara please no baby hold on God no please Tara..." Willow forgot about Buffy. Forgot about Sunnydale. Forgot about the fact that she was driving a car doing 120. Tara was dying in front of her, and all Willow knew was that she had to help her. When she let go of the steering wheel and tried to scramble into the back seat something held her back, and she tugged helplessly at it, no longer aware of what a seatbelt was. Still wailing "...no no no no..." she locked eyes with Tara, didn't see Buffy desperately grabbing for the spinning steering wheel, reached out and grabbed her girlfriend's hand and squeezed it. It took Tara every last ounce of strength in her dying body to squeeze back. As she tried to speak, Willow kept trying to climb into the backseat, and kicked the wheel out of Buffy's hand.

As Trooper Wilkins watched the other car speed away, he was relieved that his bullets didn't seem to have done any damage. He had acted too rashly. Then suddenly the Mustang lurched, turned and shot off the road, rolling over several times before coming to rest in a hopeless wreck of crushed metal.

* * *

_SUNNYDALE_

Angel stood perfectly still, staring at his empty hand. Then he let the sword fall clattering to the floor, turned around without looking back and walked away, not even glancing at Dawn who sat whimpering against the wall. As he passed Xander and Giles on the stairs, they instinctively backed off when they saw the complete nothingness in his eyes. Angel kept walking straight ahead, not looking back, out of the house, out of Sunnydale.

* * *

_HIGHWAY_

"Love... you..." Tara couldn't speak, but mouthed the words as Willow felt the entire world turn upside down. She heard someone scream  
_(Buffy?)_  
and then felt something squeeze her entire body. Pain... then darkness. Her last thought was to hold on to Tara's hand.


	18. All You Have To Do Is Dream

**Chapter 18: All You Have To Do Is Dream**_  
In which your humble narrator gets very pretentious in his attempts to end the story._

_To die, to sleep...  
To sleep! Perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;  
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...  
But that the dread of something after death,  
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn  
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,  
And makes us rather bear those ills we have  
Than fly to others that we know not of?_

William Shakespeare wrote that almost 500 years ago, and it still holds. Dreams are tricky things. They're supposed to be something our subconscious uses to make sense of what happens to us in waking life. Based in reality, but not real. Problem is, once you start dealing in alternate realities, magic, after-life and all that jazz, you can never be too sure which one is dream and which one is life.

As a certain witch once put it, alternate universes don't stay put. As long as there's walls between them, there's really no problem, but when they start bleeding into each other you're in trouble. Somehow, that needs to be stopped. People have jumped off towers for less. You can play with the idea of multiple worlds, but ultimately, you can't live in all of them. In the words of another great poet, Bob Dylan, _"you must pick one or the other, though neither of them are to be what they claim"_. It's a painful process that involves sacrificing some things, because there's always something good in every world.

So this is where you make a choice.

* * *

In one  
_(reality)  
(dream)_  
there's a mental patient who, too unable to cope with the real world, flees into psychosis and invents a world where she's a superhero who can handle anything, and can call on imaginary friends to help her out. In another, there's a genuine honest-to-goodness vampire Slayer who saves the world on a daily basis, with the help of actual friends with superpowers of their own, until she sacrifices her life so that others may live. In at least one of these, magic actually works. You can step between worlds, you can create portals, you can go to sleep in one world and wake up in the other. Death is not the end. 

In one, there's a car wreck bursting into flame at the side of the road as a horrified State Trooper pulls the only survivor away: a badly hurt blonde girl, thrown clear at the last second. He can't bear to look inside the smashed car since he could have sworn there were at least two more girls in there, and anyone who might have survived the crash is burning alive right now; since he doesn't, we can't know for sure if there was ever anyone else in there. A bit later, there's a doctor telling weeping parents that their recently healthy daughter's car crash ended with severe brain damage, and that they shouldn't expect her to ever wake up again. And here, there are no superpowers, no Slayer healing, no miracles from the powers that be, just tragedy; a coma victim wasting away in a hospital at her parents' expense. Her muscles atrophy over the years, her eyes will never open again, her face grows older as perhaps only a small part of her brain, deep down, stays alive by spinning tales of an impossible life.

In another, a Ford Mustang with three girls on board comes to a halt just outside the house on Revello Drive. Willow turns off the ignition with shaking hands and looks at Buffy.

"OK, that was... what just happened?" Willow blinks as her brain freezes up for a moment. "And aren't you supposed to be dead?" Then she squeaks with joy and hugs her best friend. Buffy hugs her back with all the strength she dares to use. She casts a quick look at Tara in the back seat, who is looking just as happily shocked as Willow, but once again the shy Tara Buffy knew from before all this, all her painful memories returned again. Buffy has a feeling that the strong, take-charge Tara she glimpsed  
_(dreamt?)_  
back at the hospital is what Tara might have been under different circumstances – then again, in this dream, everyone is alive, the car doesn't have a single dent, no one's shirt is red with blood.

Eventually Willow lets go and starts on a bunch of half-formed questions... the short version of which seems to be that the last thing she remembered was returning from LA with Angel, and then suddenly sitting here next to Buffy, and not understanding how they got from A to B and how the friend she buried just a couple of days ago is suddenly alive. Willow pinches herself to make sure it's real, and Buffy smiles at her even though there are tears in her eyes.

"I can explain. The others are at Xander's; we should probably get over there."

As Willow drives through the dark streets of Sunnydale she glances at Buffy every two seconds to make sure she's real, and back at Tara every other two feeling enormously relieved for some reason she can't remember. Tara has her hand tight on Willow's shoulder, not daring to let go – Mustangs aren't very roomy, and hugs will have to wait until they're out of the car. Buffy sits looking out of the passenger window, seeing the familiar shopwindows and buildings, the cemetaries, the old school... places she's called home for five years. Then, one last time, something flickers. She allows her mind to flash an image_  
(dream?)_  
of a girl in a hospital bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines, her brain barely functioning. That girl has no worries anymore, she'll never know pain, hunger, loneliness, fear... or satisfaction, happiness, love. On the other hand, this girl will have to deal not only with monsters and apocalypses, but also with rebuilding trust with those she left behind, with learning to live with the (false?) memory of her friends dying... But at least for this one, there's still the possibility of a happy end, if not tomorrow then maybe somewhere down the line.

She asks herself if that is real, or this? Is that a dream, or is this?

Then as they pull up in front of the building where Xander and Giles are just helping the bleeding Dawn out the door to take her to the hospital, her heart decides. This has to be right.

Buffy is home again.

She steps out of the car and takes a deep breath of night air as the others stop and stare. Then they come running to embrace her.

* * *

Those are the options, as far as I can tell. The rest, for now, is silence. And as to which one was the dream, and which one was real, well... pick one or the other. I know which one I'd choose. 

**THE END**  
(s-o-r-t of. Except for the really silly coda that is the next and last chapter. Read it at your own risk; it's just my way of tying up a loose end and hopefully getting a cheap laugh at the end to make up for all this darkness.)


	19. Must Be Talking To An Angel

**Chapter 19: Must Be Talking To An Angel**_  
In which we almost get a happy ending after all. Almost._

Yup, this was Los Angeles.

It had taken Buffy a couple of weeks to work up the courage (and emotional stability) to do this. There had been so much to sort out back home, so many half-truths to tell, so much trust to build... But she had to come here. She wanted to. Buffy stepped into the lobby of the Hyperion, not knowing what to expect, heard someone working in the office and rang the bell on the desk. Cordelia came running out with her eyes still fixed on the scroll she was trying to decipher.

"Welcome to Angel Investiga..." She looked up and saw Buffy. "Oh God."

"Hey, Cordy." Buffy tried a casual wave, shifting uneasily from foot to foot as Cordelia slowly started inching towards the weapons cabinet.

"Is it... are you really... I thought you were... WESLEY!"

"It's OK, Cor, I'm real, I'm alive, not a vampire, just me..."

Some explanations and hugs later.

"So... I guess you're here to see Angel." Cordelia looked at the floor.

"And by your expression I'm guessing he hasn't been a barrel of vampire laughs lately?"

"Not really. After he got back from Sunnydale, he just... gave up. He got an apartment downtown - we asked him to stay here, but I don't think he wants to even be reminded of the whole hero gig. We've all been by to see him a couple of times, but he just... sits there. Stares. Doesn't talk. I'm not sure he even dr... eats. It's as if all his reasons to go on disappeared when he killed you... uh, her... well you know." Cordelia stood up and took Buffy's hand. "Come on. I'll show you. It's just a short drive, and it's not like I've got anything better to do..."

Cordelia left her outside Angel's door. The house was a mess, she'd had to step over bums going up the stairs, and the hallway reeked of puke and piss and some other stuff she didn't want to think about. For someone with vampire senses to live in this had to be hell... but then again, if what Cordelia said was true, he probably didn't even notice. Buffy knocked. No answer. "Angel!" She knocked again. Eventually she heard something move on the other side.

The door opened and... oh God, he was a mess. Unshaven, his hair matted and not at all spiky, deep lines on his face as if he'd started aging and was trying to make up for 200+ years. He stared at her, his jaw almost bouncing off the floor.

"No... it can't be... you're dead. I-I killed you." Then he lashed out, and she barely managed to duck. "STOP TORTURING ME! I _tried_, Goddamnme, I did everything I could..." So much pain and regret in his voice... she ducked under his flailing arms, hugged him, letting him feel her warmth, her heartbeat.

"Angel, it's me. It's really me. I'm fine. You saved me. You did it, Angel. You killed her, you saved me, and I love you."

He kept struggling for a while as she kept telling him, then his brain caught up.

"Buffy?"

She sobbed with joy. "It's me. It's me and you and you and me and everything's alright, Angel, I promise."

At some point they stumbled into the apartment and kicked the door shut, just holding each other, whispering everything they had wanted to say. He broke the embrace, holding her at arm's length, taking her in, an incredulous smile creeping onto his face.

"Oh God, Buffy... this is... I'm so HAPPY! So... uh... perfectly...happy..." His voice trailed off as the smile turned into an embarrassed frown. "Uh-oh."

**THE END** (no, really.)


End file.
